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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years ago

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Sour Candy - Bakugou Katsuki

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 18+ (Smut) Words: 12,276 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (Aged up, characters are in college) Warnings: Language, smut, Shinsou is kind of a dick, I made Bakugou a fan of LotR alright?

AN: I have been writing this for 84 years. This is my first attempt at Bakugou. Please be gentle lol. Shout out to @unbreakablekiribaku for listening to me talk about this fic since FEBRUARY and @420bakubaby for being one of the first people to read this and then scream at me for stopping mid smut for like 2 months. Bakugou’s poor neck lmfao. xoxoxo Masterlist is here Buy me a Kofi?

---

You sighed, resting your head on your folded arms at the table. You tuned out the chattering of the girls around you, Ashido and Hagakure giggling at something to your right.

“You okay, Y/N?” Uraraka shot you a concerned look from across the table, causing you to lift your head and gaze at her.

“Yeah, I’m just bored.” And lonely, but she didn’t need to know that. Your eyes fell back to the table in front of you.

“I think you just miss Shinsou.” Ashido’s tone was teasing and it caused you to roll your eyes a little. She hit the nail on the head, but it wasn’t him that you missed, not really. It was just the companionship. Sure, you had your girlfriends, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“I don’t miss him.”

“Did you break up?” Jirou leaned her face on her palm, raising her eyebrows and looking at you curiously.

You snorted. “We were never together. We just had an...arrangement.”

“He decided to focus on his training,” Ashido explained when you offered no further information. “They’ve decided to just be friends.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Tsu reached out and patted your arm from her place on the other side of the table, beside Uraraka.

You offered her a smile, letting your gaze fall to your lap. You weren’t all that sad about it. There were no real feelings between you and Hitoshi, there never had been. You just had a good time together, letting off a little steam when things became too stressful. You were proud of him for focusing on getting stronger, especially after everything he’d gone through when you were back in UA and how hard he’d worked to get into the hero course, and you didn’t hold his decision against him.

“You need a new distraction!” Hagakure trilled excitedly, breaking you from your thoughts. “We just need to find you a new boy.”

“I don’t need a new boy.” You groaned, leaning back. “I can function without one.” Eyes closed, your lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t want to do the meaningless sex thing again.”

Ashido, who clearly had not been listening, craned her neck to look around the cafeteria where you were having lunch. “What about Kaminari?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ashido, come on. I don’t want-”

“Ooh yeah!” Hagakure continued. “He’s cute, right? Maybe a little pervy, but I bet he’s kinky!”

Jirou gave her a look. “Keep it down! Don’t let him hear you say that! He’d never shut up about it.”

“He’s too easy. All I’d have to do is look at him and he’d cum in his pants.” Your lips curled up into a smirk, shaking your head. Kaminari was cute and you’d been friends for a long time, but you didn’t think the two of you would work out. Plus, you weren’t interested in him like that.

The table burst into a fit of giggles. Yaoyorozu leaned over from your other side. “You want a challenge then? What about Todoroki?”

All eyes slid to the other side of the cafeteria where Todoroki sat, eating his soba with his chopsticks quietly, while Kirishima and Sero were laughing loudly over his head.

“He’s gorgeous, but he scares me a little bit. Strong and silent types aren’t my thing.” He was a little too...obtuse a lot of the time. Social cues went right over that boy’s head.

“So gorgeous…” Ashido sighed, slumping across the table. “Okay, what about Kiri? I could put in a good word.”

You decided to let your friends have their fun, playing along. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t know about the secret crush you’d been harboring on a certain boy.

“Shark boy is tempting. I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. Have you seen him without a shirt? And those pointy teeth…” You trailed off, gazing into the distance.

“Eijirou has two quirks; hardening, and respecting women. He would probably be too vanilla for you.” Hagakure was right, of course.

“You never know, though. I’d like to call him Red Daddy Riot at least once.” You said dreamily, earning loud laughter from the girls around you. Kirishima was hot and had a great personality, but in all seriousness, he was just a friend.

“Midoriya?” Tsu suggested.

Your eyes shot to Uraraka, instantly noticing the blush on her cheeks. “Nah, he’s off-limits.” You were one of the only ones who knew how Uraraka felt about Deku, and you weren’t about to do that to her, so you shut that idea down quickly.

You turned back to the table the guys were occupying, eyes wandering over each of them with feigned interest.

“I’ve got it!” Ashido was too excited, her loud voice commanding the attention of the room. She sunk back into her seat when a few people turned their heads in your table’s direction.

All of the girls around you leaned in to hear her better when she beckoned them closer. “Bakugou.” She said conspiratorially, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“Do you think Y/N has a death wish?” Jirou huffed. “Ashido, that wasn’t a serious suggestion, was it?”

Uraraka winced, her pink cheeks getting ever pinker. “If you think Todoroki is scary, he’s nothing compared to Bakugou.”

Tsu, always the observant one, shook her head. “He’s not as mean as he makes himself out to be. He’s like sour candy.”

“Bitter on the outside, sweet on the inside?” Yaoyorozu was grinning, picking up on Tsu’s metaphor.

“If anyone could crack him, it’s you Y/N. You don’t put up with shit.” Ashido pressed on. “You’re strong too, and he’ll respect that. Plus, he’s nicer to you than he is to the rest of us.”

“That doesn’t mean much, cause he’s still kind of a dick to me.” You said. “But…” You glanced over to see Bakugou eating his sashimi with a permanent frown on his face. “If you think I’d let Kiri do whatever he wanted to me, then times that by a million, and that’s what I’d let Bakugou do.”

“I’d let him blow me up.” You could just picture Hagakure slumping over dramatically. “Those washboard abs, his bulging biceps…”

“You okay, Hagakure? Someone get the spray bottle.” Jirou’s eyes were alright with mirth, lips curled into a teasing smile.

“You think I should try?” You asked the table, your gaze still locked on the ash blonde across the room.

If you were being honest with yourself, Bakugou was the only boy that you could see yourself with. You’d been intrigued by him since your first year at UA, and had always wondered what it would be like to date him. You had given up on the idea of ever getting him to like you, knowing that getting close enough to him would be a daunting task. He had built walls around himself since day one, putting up an unapproachable front, and you’d always thought it would be impossible. And now, 4 years later, you were all attending the same hero college, and you felt like your chances to win his affections hadn’t gotten any better.

But, what was the harm in it?

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Tsu confirmed, breaking you from your reverie.

Ashido squealed, bouncing in her seat. “You two would be so cute!”

You turned to look across the room, catching a glimpse of bright amethyst eyes peering in your direction. Hitoshi smiled at you before turning his attention back to his friends, and you searched your heart for any feelings that you might have missed for him. When you came up with nothing, you knew you’d made your decision.

“Well, Ashido, I guess you better start thinking of ship names. Operation Bang Bakugou is in full effect, starting immediately.” You said finally, smiling at your friends.

They didn’t need to know how you felt about him, anyway. That was your secret motivation. You just hoped this didn’t blow up in your face.

---

Twenty-four hours later, you had made zero progress. The most you’d gotten was a heated glare from the explosive blonde when he’d caught you staring at him during one of the classes you shared. You were starting to think the whole thing was hopeless, but you couldn’t give up. Your mama didn’t raise no quitter.

You decided this was going to take some time and a lot of research. You started by observing Bakugou’s routine. It was fate that you’d been assigned to the same dormitory, along with the rest of your high school friends, so you would have plenty of opportunities to watch him without being creepy.

He got up insanely early every morning and went for a run, and then showered and ate breakfast. After his last class, he would do his homework and hang out with Kirishima and the rest of his squad before wandering off to bed around 8 pm, like a grandpa. On the weekends he would keep the same morning routine, and then would spend his afternoons in the gym unless someone was able to convince him to break his regimen and actually participate in a group activity, but it was rare and he would be grumpy about it the whole time.

You filed his relationship with Eijirou away for a moment of desperation. You wanted to try to do this all on your own if you could, but it was good to know that you might have an in if you needed it. For now, you were going to try to get Bakugou to talk to you.

You begrudgingly set your alarm for the ungodly hour of 5 am the night before you put your half-assed idea into motion. When it woke you up out of a nice dream you grumbled, dragging yourself to the bathroom to wash your face and fix your bed head. You dressed in your workout clothes and stumbled downstairs with your running shoes, your phone, and a pair of headphones shoved into the front pocket of your hoodie.

You sat down on the front steps to the dorm, lacing up your shoes and yawning.

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Bakugou’s red ones as he stood behind you. You cleared your throat. “Hey, Bakugou. I was just getting ready to go for a run.”

His posture was stiff as always. “You don’t go for runs.”

“Not normally, no. But I think it’ll benefit me. I want to get faster.” You shrugged. “Are you going running too? Maybe we can run together?”

“Tch. You wouldn’t be able to keep up, princess.” He sat down and pulled on his shoes, no longer paying you any attention.

You didn’t want to push him, so you didn’t say anything, moving to the grass and sitting down so you could stretch. The morning was nice, a little chilly, but the breeze felt good and it was quiet. You felt his eyes on you but you ignored him, reaching out to touch your toes, flexing your feet. When you were satisfied, you stood, bending your knee and grabbing your foot to pull it back.

Bakugou was standing in front of you. “Just stay out of my way. I usually run towards the training grounds and then loop back around the dorms. It’s about two miles all the way around.”

You looked over at him, trying not to grin. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“I’m not doing you any favors, don’t thank me.” He snapped. “Fucking Christ. Just shut up.”

Your eyes widened as he turned his back to you, reaching into his hoodie for his headphones and shoving them in his ears. He messed with his phone for a second, before turning around and glaring at you.

You followed his lead, shoving an earbud in one ear and turning on your music. When you put your phone away he grunted and started jogging in the direction of the training grounds, and you followed, keeping pace behind him.

It was nice, it felt good to get your blood pumping so early in the morning. The campus was deserted, no one was probably even awake at this hour. Bakugou was quiet, but you didn’t expect him to speak to you, let alone let you run with him, so you didn’t have any complaints. You took this as a win though, because he’d at least acknowledged your existence.

Your legs were burning about three-fourths of the way through but you pushed on, not wanting to seem weak in front of him. You assumed if you stopped or slowed, he wouldn’t wait for you, and you thought it might hurt your chances of getting to do this with him again.

Your discomfort must have been apparent, though, because he grunted and looked back at you. “Oi! What’s your problem?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re fucking not, you’re slowing and you’re not breathing right.” He slowed down a little. “You’re pushing yourself too much.”

Your legs ached, and you felt a stitch forming in your side.“I said I’m fine.”

“Stubborn fucking-“ He slowed further, back into a light jog. “Your body isn’t used to this. I shouldn’t have let you come with me.”

“You can go without me, Bakugou. I can handle myself.” You grumbled, hating that he was right.

He rolled his eyes. “I usually start slowing down now anyway.” He reached in his other hoodie pocket and pulled out a water bottle, shoving it at you. “Drink.”

You didn’t even have it in you to argue, taking the bottle from him and unscrewing the cap, drinking slowly from it. You handed it back to him, keeping your gaze set on your shoes. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him as he jogged beside you. It looked like all you’d managed to do was piss him off further.

When you finally reached the dorms you threw yourself on the grass, your heart thudding hard in your chest and your muscles aching. You closed your eyes, waiting for your breathing to slow, vaguely aware of Bakugou sitting somewhere to your right.

“Hey, dumbass. Don’t forget to stretch.”

You opened one eye to peer over at him. “Mm. I know.” You sat up and sighed before you started stretching, knowing you’d be in pain later regardless.

Bakugou drank from the water bottle, and then tossed it at you, watching as it hit the ground beside you. “We’ll take a shorter path tomorrow and work you up to more.”

You stopped, looking at him with your jaw wide open. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to give up already, idiot.” He stood up. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”

“I’m not!” You said quickly. “I just...I don’t want you to fuck up your routine for me.”

“Tch.” He glared at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You obviously need the help since you can’t even handle two miles. It pisses me off. So I’m going to make you my personal project.” He turned to walk inside. “Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

You watched him go, your eyes wide. You couldn’t even believe this was happening. “Hey, Bakugou!”

He stopped, not bothering to turn and look at you. “What?”

“Thanks.”

His shoulders tensed. “Whatever.”

You kept your eyes on him as he disappeared into the building, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding when he was out of sight. “Well, fuck.”

—

“So what’s going on with you and Bakugou?” Ashido asked a few weeks later while you were sitting down to lunch again. “Any progress?”

There had been a little progress. Bakugou seemed to enjoy your company. It took you a few days to realize it, but he insulted you less. Like, he still called you an idiot and a dumbass, and occasionally he referred to you as ‘shitty woman’, but it wasn’t the same. It was like there was no anger behind his words.

“They go running together every morning now, didn’t you know that?” Hagakure‘s voice came from your right. If you could see her face you knew she’d be grinning widely.

Jirou gazed at you with her eyebrow cocked. “Interesting. He doesn’t let anyone run with him.”

“He does now.” You mumbled, looking down at your soba. “I kind of forced myself upon him. He’s taken me up as a charity case. But I’m getting better.”

“He’s such a hardass. He probably barks orders at you the whole time. I’m not sure it’d be worth it.” Ashido was concerned for you, and it made you smile. She was a good friend.

“He’s alright.” You glanced over at the boys’ table and caught him looking at you. His neck snapped forward when you caught his eye. “Actually, it’s going pretty well.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Tsu’s tone was light, and you knew she was making fun of you.

You snorted at her. “Okay, not /that/ well. Not yet at least.”

“Do you guys talk at all?” Yaoyorozu leaned on her elbow and blinked at you.

“I talk, he sort of listens? I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me to shut up, so that’s got to mean something, right?”

The second day you’d run together, you asked him what he was listening to, and he’d shoved one of his earbuds at you in response. It was some heavy metal band, and you understood maybe every three words due to the screaming and growling of the lead singer, but it was fitting for Bakugou. You ran the rest of the time listening to it together, and it was nice and kind of unexpected. The next day you’d given him one of your earbuds and he’d listened to your music choices. You were pretty sure that was the first time you’d heard him genuinely laugh at something, even if it was just because he heard the lyric “Tell the haters to suck my fucking cock”.

“It’s better than him blowing you up or something.” Uraraka mused, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll see. We’re going to study together later so…”

Ashido gaped at you. “What? He told us he couldn’t help us with the math homework. Kaminari asked him earlier and he said he had plans.”

“I’m the plans I guess?” You could feel the blush rising on your cheeks. “I’m meeting him in his room after dinner.”

“His room? Y/N, no one has seen his room except for Kirishima! This is big!” Jirou looked absolutely ecstatic for you.

“Shh! Not so loud!” You felt your face turning even redder. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“You cracked him, Y/N.” Tsu looked almost proud of you, her smile lighting up her whole face.

“I never thought this would go anywhere! Good luck, Y/N! We’re rooting for you!” Hagakure giggled excitedly, and you felt her grab your arm and shake you.

The rest of the table nodded in agreement, offering you congratulations.

“Thanks, guys. I’m actually hella nervous.” You turned your attention back to your lunch.

“If how often he keeps looking over here is any indication, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Yaoyorozu elbowed you, a teasing tone in her voice.

You looked over to see him staring at you again. You smiled at him, and he just glared back, but it wasn’t the heated one you were used to. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

—

You were heading back to the dorms after your last class, your bag slung over your shoulder, lost in thought. You wondered what you should wear later, running through possible outfits in your head as you walked. If you dressed up too much Bakugou might get suspicious, and you were trying to keep things casual for now.

“Hey, kitten.”

Your head snapped up, meeting the sleepy purple gaze of Shinsou as he fell into step beside you.

“Hey, ‘Toshi. How’s your training going?”

He shrugged, amethyst eyes meeting yours. “It’s alright. I’m running myself ragged. But it’s good. It feels good, you know?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You were happy for him. “I’m glad to hear that. You’ve always worked so hard, it’s going to pay off.”

Hitoshi lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, his trademark move. “Yeah, maybe. How’re things with you?”

“Okay. I’ve been running in the mornings before class. I’m getting faster. I can do almost two miles in about 16 minutes.”

“Wow. That’s pretty good.” He looked impressed, his hands sliding into his pockets as you walked.

“I’ve got a pretty good teacher.” You said vaguely, not wanting to give him any more information.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Just, someone in my dorm. It’s not important.” You knew he’d be less than pleased. You didn’t care what he thought, you just wanted to avoid the inevitable badmouthing he was prone to when it came to Bakugou.

You turned your head, looking forward. Bakugou was standing in front of the dorms with Kirishima just ahead of you. He looked up and caught your eye, frowning when he saw Hitoshi walking beside you.

Shinsou followed your gaze. “You’re training with that asshat, aren’t you?” He looked mildly disgusted. “I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you yet.”

“He’s not that bad, you know that. He knows his shit.” Your brows furrowed. This was exactly what you’d been trying to avoid.

“Maybe so, but he’s also a giant douchebag.”

You stopped walking, tired of the conversation already. You knew him well enough to know that this wasn’t just a casual catch up, anyway. “You haven’t spoken to me in like a week, Hitoshi. What do you want?”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows. “Chill out, kitten. I just wanted to say hi. I missed you.” He reached out, his fingers trailing along your cheek.

You looked over when you heard yelling. Kirishima was calling after Bakugou, the fiery blonde storming away from him and inside the building. What was that about?

You jerked back from Hitoshi’s touch. “Nope. None of that. You’re the one who ended things with us, remember?”

“So we can't be friends? Wasn’t that the deal?”

Your frustration was apparent in your posture. “It was. But that’s not what you were thinking and we both know it.” You turned, walking backwards towards the building. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

His face pinched. “What’s your problem? Are you fucking him already? You don’t waste a second.”

You felt your anger bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. Turning around, you fixed him with a glare. “No, I’m not. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Shinsou. Fuck off.”

You spun back towards the dorms, your hands shaking as you stormed past Kirishima and slammed the front door open.

“Y/N, wait!”

You kept walking, ignoring the looks you were getting from the group that was sitting in the common area. You didn’t stop until you reached the elevator, jamming your finger against the button harder than necessary.

The sound of sneakers slapping against the floor had you spinning around. Kirishima was approaching, looking concerned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Fine.” You snapped, turning back to the elevator. “What’s up?”

“Oh! Well, I don’t know, it looked like you were fighting with Shinsou. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt bad for snapping at him. Eijirou was a good friend. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay. He’s just a dick.”

Kiri chuckled, his sharp teeth on display. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

Changing the subject, you shrugged. “Is Bakugou okay? He looked mad. Like, madder than usual.” The elevator dinged and you entered it, moving aside so he could join you.

He pushed the button for your floor and then his. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just…”

“Being Bakugou?”

“Yeah, basically. You get it.” He reached up to touch his bright red spikes, before his gaze settled on your face, bright red eyes glinting conspiratorially. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

You froze, panicking slightly. Was it that obvious? “What? Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says too. You can’t fool me though. I know for a fact that I’m the only person he can tolerate on a normal day, and he doesn’t let me go running with him.” He looked at you knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

You felt your cheeks heating up, imagining their color rivaled the hair on his head. “He’s just helping me train.”

Kiri sighed. “Just do me a favor and be nice to him. He’s my best bro.”

The elevator dinged again when it reached your floor. You stepped out and turned back to him. “Nothings going on, Kiri.” You repeated. “We’re just friends.”

So what if you wanted to be more? Kirishima didn’t need to know that.

“Sure. See you at dinner, Y/N.” He winked as the doors closed and left you standing in the hallway alone.

—

After dinner, you went to your room to grab your math textbook and your pencil case. You decided to put on your comfy clothes, slipping on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, and throwing your hoodie on over it before you made your way to the elevator.

You stood in front of Bakugou’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You didn’t have to wait long, the door flying open moments later. “What do you want?”

You blinked at him, biting your lip. “We were supposed to study, remember?”

He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together as he stared at you, his arms folded across his chest. “Thought you weren’t coming.” He was waiting for an answer. You raised your eyebrows at him in lieu of a reply, and he sighed, opening the door wider and letting you enter.

His room was neat, with an All Might poster on the wall above his desk. His bed was made, and he had a giant bookcase against the far wall filled with books. It was kind of fitting for him. You didn’t expect anything flashy, it was Bakugou after all.

“Why wouldn’t I come? We made plans.” You questioned him, shuffling over to sit on the bed.

“Tch.” He flopped into his desk chair. “Thought you’d be off with eyebags instead.”

You stared at him, confused. “Shinsou? No.”

“Weren’t you dating him?” He kept his gaze on the book in front of him, his shoulders tense, and fists clenched on the desk.

“No. Not really.” Was he jealous? Was that what that fit was about outside the dorms after class?

He didn’t say anything, and you could feel the tension in the air. If he was feeling jealous from seeing you with Hitoshi earlier, then maybe things were going better than you’d hoped. You knew you had to say something to fix this.

“Bakugou.”

He looked up, glaring at you like he usually did, his eyes filled with something else other than anger. Hurt?

“I’m not dating Shinsou. I’m not interested in him.” Putting your book down beside you, you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees. “We used to mess around but that’s over. We’re just friends.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but he almost looked relieved for a moment, before turning back to his desk. “You needed help with math?”

You nodded, getting comfortable and pulling out your book, flipping to the page you’d marked off, your notebook folded over to where you’d copied the questions. “I’m terrible at this stuff. My brain just can’t comprehend it.”

“Tch. It’s not that hard, princess.” He got up and sat beside you on the bed. “Gimme that.” He took your pencil and started writing, explaining the problem, and each step.

You were trying to pay attention, but you were kind of in awe of him. Katsuki Bakugou was the whole package; he was smart, strong, good looking. He gave a shit about people even if he was good at hiding it behind insults and a big ego. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be at the top of your class again, and climbing the ranks to number one hero once you’d graduated.

“Are you even listening?” His rough voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, yes.” You took back the pencil, working on the next problem, following the steps he’d given you. “Like that?”

He hummed. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.” He looked kind of proud of you, and it made your heart flutter.

Thinking back to what you’d said to Shinsou earlier about him, you grinned. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

“Damn right you do. Finish the rest of them and I’ll check them over when you’re done.” He got up and moved back over to his desk, slouching down to read over his textbook.

You got to work, flying through the problems faster than you thought possible. Something about the way he’d explained it had clicked in your head, and it suddenly just made sense.

“Here.” You held out your notebook when you were done.

Bakugou looked surprised, but took the notebook from you and began checking them over.

You stood up, walking over to his bookshelf, and looking at his books. A lot of them were manga, some you’d actually read yourself. There were some fantasy novels, like Game of Thrones and Lord Of The Rings, graphic novels like Locke and Key and The Walking Dead. You had a lot more in common with him than you’d originally thought.

“You just need to fix this one. Make sure you show your work or sensei will mark you down.”

You turned back to him and smiled. “Thanks, Bakugou.” You took the notebook back and sat back on the bed, working on the problem Bakugou had instructed you to fix. “I didn’t know you liked Lord Of The Rings.” You were formulating a plan, and as usual, it was half-assed.

He grunted, turning the page in his book. “What about it?”

“You know they’re showing the extended version at the theater next weekend.” You chanced a glance up at him, surprised to see he was watching you.

“And?”

He was either completely dense or he wanted to make your life harder. You were leaning toward the latter. You bit back a sigh. “So, do you want to go with me?”

“What, like a date?” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. You tried not the stare at his bulging biceps.

You finished your math problem, shoving your notebook back into the textbook and setting it aside, leaning forward again. “If you want.”

“Hah? You want to go on a date with me?” His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes squinting, like he was trying to figure you out.

This was going well. Not. “Yeah, I do.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Aren’t guys supposed to ask girls on dates?”

“I mean, that’s kind of sexist, isn’t it? Does it matter who asks who?” Fuck, he was being an ass. You weren’t sure why, but you kept going. “Is that a yes?”

He seemed to be looking everywhere else but at you directly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No.”

Your face fell, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. Determined not to let him see you cry, knowing he’d see it as a weakness, you forced a smile on your face. “Okay. Thanks again for your help, Bakugou.”

You stood up, grabbing your book and your pencil, shoving it in the case and tucking it under your arm. You turned to the door, your heart aching. You thought you’d finally made some headway with him, but you were apparently wrong. This was an unmitigated disaster, and you couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed and never leave it again.

“Ugh, wait.”

You paused with your hand on the doorknob, turning to look at him. He stood up and walked up behind you, grabbing your arm lightly and pulling you towards him. You nearly dropped your book as your hand pressed against his chest to keep yourself from bumping into him. “What?”

“Go out with me next weekend.” He mumbled, his free hand moving up to push a piece of your hair away from your face.

You blinked up at him, lost in the intensity of his stare. Suddenly, it clicked. “You just wanted to be the one to ask, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Are you prepared to sit in a dark theater with me for three and a half hours?” You felt lighter, confidence back up to 100 percent. Trying to ignore how close you were pressed against him, you smiled.

He snorted. “If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

He was right, of course. “Yeah, okay. It’s a date.” You leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek before you lost your nerve. “Goodnight, Bakugou. See you in the morning.”

“Call me Katsuki.”

Surprised, you just nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You didn’t miss the pink blush on his cheeks when you pulled away, willing yourself not to look back at him as you turned around and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

Your night had gone better than you’d expected.

—

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, and the next thing you knew it was Saturday.

You woke up at your normal 5 am and met Bakugou downstairs to start your run. You sat together on the grass, giggling and kicking his foot when he stretched his leg out beside yours. “What time did you want to leave later?”

He hummed. “The movie starts at 4. Did you want to eat before or after?”

Looking up at him shyly, you blushed. “We’re going for food?”

“Tch, of course. It’s a date, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you quizzically, looking at you like you were the biggest idiot he’d ever met.

“Dinner and a movie? You’re really going all out, aren’t you, Katsuki?” Your heart swelled. You never imagined you’d get to this point with him.

He got to his feet, standing in front of you and folding his arms across his chest. “Keep it up and we won’t go at all.”

You squeaked. “I’m sorry!” You held out your arms and smiled when he grabbed your hands and pulled you up to stand. “After is good.”

He nodded, rolling his neck. “Fine.”

You started running, trying not to smile when you noticed that he was letting you run beside him instead of making sure he was ahead of you. There were small things that had changed between the two of you since you’d decided to put some effort into building a relationship with him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Are you excited about tonight?” You wondered if he was nervous. Did Bakugou even get nervous?

He half shrugged. “I guess.” You didn’t say anything and he seemed to realize his answer was too short. “I didn’t get to see the extended edition in the theater so I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah, me too.” You had missed out on it too. Feeling a little bold, you continued. “Plus, it’ll be great to hang out with you.”

“You hang out with me every day.” He pointed out gruffly, shaking his head.

He had a point, and you felt like you probably sounded like a loser. No turning back now. “Yeah, I know. But this is different.”

He was silent for a moment, and you looked back over at him to see him deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting at his bottom lip. “Why do you like me?” He asked suddenly, and you almost tripped over your own feet in surprise.

“What?” You managed to keep yourself upright, keeping up with his pace. He was blushing slightly, and it was probably the single most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

He kept his eyes forward. “Shitty hair says I’m scary. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but you still want to go out with me, so I was just trying to figure it out.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not scary. People just don’t know how to approach you.” He scoffed and you continued. “I like you because you’re not a pushover. You don’t take anyone’s shit, you’re smart as hell. You’re going to be a great hero someday, Katsuki.”

“Ugh, shut up, you’re being sappy.” You saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile.

“You asked! I’m just being honest.” You felt proud that you were able to get that reaction from him. “You know, I didn’t think you’d ever want to go out with me.”

His head snapped to the side, a scowl on his face. “Why wouldn’t I? You must be an idiot.”

“Hey!” You laughed. “Be nice to me.”

“I am being nice. I’m always nice to you, princess.”

You didn’t comment on how the nickname he’d given you since day one made heat race pleasantly through your veins.

“Your definition of nice is slightly skewed, but I’ll accept it, I guess.” You didn’t want to push him too much, but you were curious. “Why does that make me an idiot, though? You never acted as you would ever date anyone, so I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance.”

The two of you rounded the path by the training grounds and started heading back towards the dorms. “I didn’t expect to…” He trailed off. “Look, being the number one hero is my top fucking priority. I didn’t even want to make friends and then Shitty hair happened.”

You nodded. Kirishima was a ball of sunshine that no one could avoid. He just had this way about him.

“You’re the only one out of all those extras that ever had a chance, okay?” He snapped his mouth shut, scowling, and you decided to let him be. The last thing you wanted to do was piss him off.

“Okay.”

---

You finished your run, stretching and then heading back inside. You promised Bakugou you’d meet up with him around 2:30 so you had plenty of time to get to the theater.

After breakfast, you disappeared to your room for a while to knock out some dreaded weekend homework. Around noon you stood and stretched, deciding to take a shower and get ready for your date. You decided to wear a pair of black skinny jeans and booties with a cute top. Bakugou had mentioned wanting to take you out for ramen after, so you decided to keep your outfit casual but put together.

You met him in the common area a little after 2, ignoring the knowing grins on your friend’s faces as you left the dorm together, Bakugou’s hands shoved in his pockets, your hand looped through his arm.

You were walking down the main path in companionable silence, heading towards the road so Bakugou could call you an Uber to take you to the movies. Someone called out to you and you turned your head, your stomach dropping when you saw Shinsou making his way over. You glanced at Bakugou from the corner of your eye, noticing his tense posture and the frown on his face.

“What is it, Hitoshi? We were just leaving campus.” Your tone was clipped, not wanting to drag this out, since Bakugou was giving him a murderous glare.

He lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck as usual. “Sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. It was kind of shitty of me.”

You let go of Bakugou, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yeah, I’ll say.” You weren’t about to forgive him, not wanting him to walk all over you. “Was that it?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

Bakugou decided to speak up beside you. “Obviously she isn’t, eyebags. Are you done? We have somewhere to be.”

“Hey, I wasn’t talking to you, Bakugou.” Hitoshi snapped.

You watched as Katsuki lifted his right hand, his palm popping and sparking from his quirk. “Like I give a fuck? Fuck you, bastard!”

You grabbed his left arm. “Katsuki, don’t. He’s not worth it.” You looked back to Shinsou. “I’m not talking to you about this right now. We have to go.”

Hitoshi sneered. “Whatever, guess I was right, huh?” He turned around and started to walk away, turning his head to the side to throw a final insult over his shoulder. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Bakugou.”

It took an enormous amount of strength on your part to hold Bakugou back from running after the purple-haired boy. “I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking extra! Don’t fucking talk about her like that-”

“Katsuki, come on! It’s fine!” You tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“It’s not fine!” He spat, but he let you pull him away, growling and snarling like a rabid dog.

You kept a firm grip on his arm until he stopped looking back toward the other boy and you were a safe distance away from the school. He busied himself with pulling out his phone to call your ride, but you saw he was still seething quietly as he did so.

He shoved his phone in his pocket when you got to the road, moving to the side of the campus entrance and leaning against the wall. “What was he apologizing for?”

You looked away from him, knowing if you didn’t tell him he’d be preoccupied with it all night. You didn’t want to ruin the date but you knew how much he appreciated honesty, so you told him. “He insinuated that I was fucking you, and he basically called me a slut for moving on from him so quickly.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you were afraid to meet his eyes. You were startled when he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “He’s a piece of shit, and I will gladly end his life if you want me to.” His red eyes were blazing, and you knew he was fully ready to make good on his threat if you said the word.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. “I appreciate that, but it’s okay.” Your heart was in your throat, and you felt your eyes watering. You knew Hitoshi was just being a jealous prick, but it still hurt your feelings.

“Fuck him. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I know, I won’t.” Somehow, Bakugou’s words made you feel better. “Can we just forget about him? I don’t want that to ruin our night. We have a date with some hobbits.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay.” If he noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything. The Uber pulled up behind you and he pushed off the wall, his hand still gripping yours. “Come on, princess.”

—

It was nearly 9:30 by the time you got back to the dorms. You walked up the path from the road with Bakugou’s arm around your waist, your body pressed into his side while you walked.

You’d had a really good time despite the rocky start to your evening, thanks to Shinsou. But Katsuki had let it go, and you appreciated that he hadn’t let the purple-haired boy ruin your night.

The movie had been great, and you’d been surprised when Bakugou had lifted the armrest between your seats and dragged you closer to him, letting you lean against him with his arm around your shoulder as you shared popcorn. You’d been half distracted by his warm palm against your arm, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin through the whole film.

You welcomed this new development, the feeling of his hand on your skin was comforting. It was a distinct contrast from his normal personality, and it made you soft for him. You never thought you’d see this side of him, and you were not complaining.

After the movie, he’d taken you out for ramen as promised, and you’d giggled at him when he ordered his extra spicy, and he teased you when you got yours without any spice. You got to know more about each other, quietly swooning over the smirk on his face when he made you laugh.

Now you were back at school and dreading the moment you had to say good night. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you...want to come back to my room?” His cheeks were dusted pink, and he almost looked shy. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” You teased.

He growled. “Shut up, dumbass. Nevermind then.”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I was just kidding. I want to. I was just thinking about how I didn’t want the night to be over.” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Me either.” His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“What did you want to do?” You had a few ideas, and none of them were SFW.

He just grinned, holding the door open for you when you reached the dorm building. You walked into the common room, the both of you stopping to kick off your shoes. You looked up as everyone sitting on the couch turned their attention to the both of you.

Before they could start bombarding you with questions, Bakugou grabbed your hand. “Come on.” He started pulling you towards the elevators, ignoring Ashido yelling and whining from her spot on the couch.

“Sorry guys! We’ll talk later!” You called over your shoulder, nearly falling over when Bakugou tugged on your arm and pulled you into the open elevator.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, looking up at him slowly as the door behind you closed. Your heart was jackhammering in your chest at your close proximity, and the warmth of his hands on your waist as he held you close made you dizzy. You licked your lips subconsciously, the nerves that had been simmering inside you nearly boiling over as you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

His cheeks were ruddy as he gazed at you, his fingers flexing against your hips. The dinging of the elevator reaching his floor ruined the moment, and he was pulling away from you too soon, clearing his throat. His fingers intertwined with yours again as you followed him out into the hallway, hoping that you could get back to what you were doing once you were in the safety of his bedroom.

When the door clicked shut behind him, you watched him fidget around the room, pulling his desk chair near the bed and opening up his laptop, sitting it on the seat. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up at you. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here?”

You moved over, sitting beside him, watching as he pressed the play button on some animated movie. “Is this Studio Ghibli?”

He grunted. “Background noise.”

You blushed when you realized he didn’t plan on actually watching it. You met his eyes, feeling a chill roll down your spine when he smirked at you. The mood had shifted so suddenly, and it felt like he was less of the soft and hesitant boy at the movies, and more like the Bakugou you knew.

You weren’t complaining.

“Now, where were we?” His hands moved to your waist, tugging you forward. You rearranged your legs to straddle his lap, your back facing his laptop, your arms hanging over his shoulders.

You felt his warm breath, his nose trailing along your jaw. “Katsuki…”

“Hah?” He asked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Were you going to let me kiss you in the elevator?”

You hummed, nodding. The anticipation was killing you, and it was apparent that he could tell. You let your eyes flutter shut, licking your lips, waiting for him to do something.

You heard him chuckle, your hips rocking slightly against his lap causing the sound to be cut short as he sucked in a breath. “Impatient, huh princess?”

His usual nickname for you sent a shiver through you. “Katsuki, please.”

“Fuck, don’t beg. You don’t know what that does to me.” His lips were on yours before you could reply, needy and insistent.

Kissing Bakugou was just what you’d always imagined it would be. He didn’t do anything half-assed, so you weren’t surprised by the passion behind it. Being this close to him was exhilarating. You could smell the faint scent of caramel on him when you breathed in, tilting your head slightly as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips parted and he groaned, licking into your mouth as your hips rolled down against him again.

He pulled away, the two of you breathless. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck, nipping lightly as he went. You sighed when his hands moved from your hips, fingers drifting under the hem of your shirt and trailing lightly up your sides. You let your hands move to his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp and tugging at his soft locks as his teeth worried at the place where your neck and shoulder met.

When he was satisfied with the blooming bruise on your skin, he pulled away to look you in the eye. Vermillion met Y/E/C with his usual serious expression. “I want you to know that I’m not just fucking around with you, you got that?”

Your eyes widened. “I-”

“No, listen to me, idiot. I don’t give a fuck about eyebags and his bullshit. I don’t want you to think I think like that bastard, understand?” His brows were furrowed and his voice was rough in a way that usually made your thighs clench.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, pressing a little closer on his lap. “I know, Katsuki.”

His eyes fluttered closed and his hands settled on your hips when you scratched along his scalp before they snapped open again. “Good. Because if we do this, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him. Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“If that purple-haired freak even looks at you again, I’m going to rip off his fucking face and feed it to Hound Dog.” His palms slid to settle on your ass, squeezing and pulling you to rock against the hardening bulge in his jeans.

You moaned softly, nodding again. You were so turned on you felt like you were going to come apart, and he’d barely even touched you. You briefly wondered if you had a voice kink, cause just listening to him talk was doing things to you.

Sensing he was done talking, you leaned back slightly, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head, tossing the garment somewhere behind you. His eyes were glazed over with lust as he looked down at your bra covered chest. He dipped his head forward, tongue tracing the lace of the cup over the swell of your breast. You reached behind you and undid the clasp, gasping when he grabbed the offending object and pulled it down your arms and threw it aside.

A blush rose over your body as he gazed at you hungrily, but your embarrassment was short-lived, immediately replaced with pleasure. He left a wet trail of kisses across the top of your breasts, his tongue laving over your nipple, hot breath turning cool as he blew over the hardening bud. You were panting, grinding rhythmically in his lap, seeking friction as he showered your chest with attention, switching to the other breast and giving it the same treatment.

You pulled him up to kiss you again, hands moving to his back to grasp his t-shirt and tug on it. He got the hint, breaking the kiss to remove his shirt. You let your eyes drift over the absolute work of art that was his body, fingers trailing over his defined shoulders and biceps, and then back up across his collarbone. You leaned over to kiss along his neck, your nails trailing down his pecs and over his nipples, earning a low growl from the ash blonde.

Strong arms moved around your waist as he picked you up off his lap and moved you over to lay down on the bed. He was hovering over you in a second, his forearms resting by your head as his lips met yours again, kissing and biting on your bottom lip. You keened, arching up into him, your hands in his hair and sliding down to the back of his neck to pull him closer.

His lips trailed away from yours, down your neck and chest, his hands moving as he slid down your body, his fingers deftly popping open the button on your jeans. He settled between your legs on his knees, pulling your skinny jean down your hips and thighs. You lifted your legs to help him, shivering when the cool temperature of the room settled over your bare skin.

Fingers smoothed their way up your calf, his warm hands slid up the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs wider, tracing one finger over your clothed slit. The look in his eyes was positively feral when they met yours. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You sat up in response, hands moving to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. “And you’re wearing too many clothes, Katsuki.” You grinned up at him cheekily, making him chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, shuffling back off the bed to pull his jeans down his legs. Your gaze trailed over muscled thighs covered in light blonde hair, the black boxer briefs that hugged his thin waist, and the noticeable bulge of his cock that had your mouth watering.

He was back on you in a second, pressing you back against the mattress, lips ghosting over your heated skin as he ground his hips against yours. You moaned quietly, committing every touch to memory.

“You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.” He murmured against your neck. When he pulled back to look down at you, his cheeks were pink with embarrassment at the confession. “Too fucking long.”

“Me too.” You didn’t want to say more, afraid too many words would ruin the moment.

His hand slid down, fingers trailing over the elastic band of your panties, before slipping underneath them. The calloused pads of his digits dipped through your folds, brushing over your clit and making you whine, back arching again.

“Fuck, you’re wet, princess.” His forehead rested on your shoulder, and you felt him shiver against you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second, your breath hitching when he moved his fingers lower, pressing one into your entrance. The digit curled inside you, and you clenched around it, your body craving more. He thrust in and out a few times, adding a second finger, his teeth sinking into your clavicle when you keened at the feeling.

You felt like you were on fire, Bakugou’s warm breath ghosting over your skin as his fingers worked you over, his thumb pressing against your clit. You let the fingers of your left hand trail along his back, feeling his muscles ripple underneath your touch. Your right hand let go of the death grip you had on his sheets, crossing over your body to trace your fingers along the elastic band of his briefs, dangerously close to sliding underneath.

Lifting his face from your neck, he licked his lips and removed his hand from your panties. You whined at the loss, pussy clenching around nothing. You pouted up at him, watching as he positioned himself between your thighs again, tugging your panties down and off. Warm palms slid up the outside of your legs, gripping your ass and lifting your lower half off the bed.

He leaned forward, kissing up the soft skin of your inner thigh, teeth nibbling as he went. Your breathing was shallow, anticipation crawling through you, and you shut your eyes, waiting for what you knew was coming next.

His tongue licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned, body arching from the bed. He hummed as he repeated the motion, the lewd sounds of slurping filling the room, nearly drowning out your gasps and the sound of the movie still playing on his laptop beside you. He kept you lifted up with one hand, the other snaking between your legs, his fingers finding their home inside you as he sucked on your bundle of nerves.

“Katsuki, fuck.” Panting, your hand moving to rest on the back of his head, your hips rolling into his face as you climbed higher and higher towards your impending release. You felt him smile against you, two fingers leaving you, replaced by three. He expertly scissored them, stretching you out, your body sucking him in deeper as you gushed around his digits.

“Gonna cum for me?” He peered up at you from between your legs. His voice was wrecked already, your eyes rolling back at the sound. You managed to nod meekly, tugging on his hair and trying to get him back to where you needed him most.

He complied, sucking on your clit hard, pushing you over the edge. You cried out, body shaking in his hold and stars exploding behind your eyelids, his tongue flicking over you again and again, helping you ride out your orgasm.

When you’d calmed, he pulled back, kissing your inner thighs again, waiting for you to catch your breath. He lowered you back down slowly, rubbing his hands up and down your legs. You opened your eyes, grinning up at him lazily.

“You good?” His arm came up to wipe the wetness from his mouth and chin, a smirk on his lips when you nodded.

You cleared your throat. “So good.” You sat up on your elbows, watching him stand again and shove his briefs down his legs. Your eyes widened slightly at his size, appreciating his body quietly. He was an adonis, and you wanted to trace over every inch of his body with your fingers and tongue.

He didn’t give you a chance, crawling back towards you. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him. “Do I need to grab a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” You appreciated him asking, most guys would have just gone for it, thinking that this type of conversation was a mood killer. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, thank god.” Palms flat against the pillow beside your head, he bent forward and kissed you. You could still taste yourself on his lips, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. You were practically vibrating, needing more of him, knowing you’d probably never get enough.

Leaning his weight on one hand, he sat back and used the other to guide himself to your entrance. Your hips rocked up toward him, impatient to feel him filling you up once more. He slid inside you slowly, letting your body get acclimated to his size. He was huge, but the stretch was delicious, burning pain giving way to pleasure as he pushed himself deeper.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he settled over you again, your breathing ragged as you closed your eyes. He was petting your hair soothingly, moving slowly, his lips trailing along your jaw. When he bottomed out inside of you he paused, and you knew he was waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath, you wiggled your hips, clenching around him. He made a punched out noise when you did, his hand rubbing along your side freezing. He was being so patient with you, but you were ready. “Suki, move. Please.”

With one hand on your hip for leverage, he pulled back, thrusting forward in one fluid motion until he was filling you again, his pace slow and steady. Every time his hips met yours you mewled, overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. He was muttering curses against your lips, his hand in your hair, thumb pressed against the side of your neck.

The scent of burnt sugar wafted over you, and you readjusted your legs higher around his waist, the new angle causing him to grunt. He felt so good, so warm, your body was alight and you were desperate for more.

Your moans and mumbled pleas of faster and harder were answered with a smirk, the boy between your thighs raising himself up to his knees and lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Large hands held your hips firmly in place as he slammed himself inside, tip kissing your cervix as you arched up in pleasure. He picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your ears as you bit down on your bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of him filling you up just like you’d always wanted.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so tight.” He turned his head to kiss your calf, and you couldn’t help but purr at how attractive he looked in that moment, skin shining with perspiration as he fucked into you. “Taking my cock so well.”

“Katsuki, shit, you feel so good.” Your hands slid over your own body, fingers tweaking at your nipples. He was watching you intently, his tongue darting out to lick along his plush pink lips. He adjusted your leg, pushing it up and toward you so he could lean down and press his lips to yours. You breath mingled when he pulled back to brush his nose against yours. “Hey, let me ride you.”

He stopped moving, lips curling into a smirk. “Hah? You want to be on top, princess?”

Humming, you moved your leg back to the bed, leaning up on your elbows. He slid out of you, moving to lay beside you. You willed your body to move, your legs shaking as you threw one over him and hoisted yourself up to straddle his hips. Wasting no time, you gripped his cock, lifting onto your knees and lining him up, sliding down on his length. His hands gripped your hips, your palms resting on his abs as you rocked forward. You moaned in tandem, doing your best to rut against him, alternating with lifting yourself slightly and rocking, dragging your nails from his stomach and up his chest, leaving red lines across his tanned skin.

Katsuki threw his head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so pretty like this, his skin flushed and chest heaving, hair mussed from your hands running through it. You leaned forward, dragging your lips along his sharp jaw, breathing in the scent of caramel. Briefly, you wondered how angry he would be if you left a mark on his neck where everyone else could see it.

He chose that moment to tighten his hands around your hips, holding you steady as he bucked up into you, forcing you to sit up, your back arching in pleasure. The muscles in your legs burned from exertion, but you kept moving, bouncing on his cock and clenching around him. You knew you’d be sore the next day but felt too good to stop.

One of his hands moved from your hip, fingers trailing across your skin to dip between your thighs, one calloused finger pressing against your clit. Gasping, you moaned his name lowly, your head falling back as you felt your body preparing to throw you over the edge again. “Oh fuck, I’m close.” Voice trembling, you held your breath, letting your eyes close.

He sat up suddenly, his fingers moving faster, his chest pressed against yours. Your hands traveled up and over his shoulders, fingers carding through his soft hair as he pressed kisses to your collarbones. His breath was warm as he spoke, his rough voice as he whispered into your ear, coaxing you over the edge.

You clenched around him, eyes rolling back as you came, his hands gasping your hips as he slammed up into you, chasing his high. Your toes curled as you rode out your orgasm, nails digging into the pale flesh of his back as you tried to keep yourself tethered to him, feeling as though you might float away, his name shuddering from your parted lips.

Groaning lowly in your ear, he came right after, hips stuttering, his head falling to press against your shoulder. Your heart was slamming in your ribcage, breathing labored and skin sticky with sweat, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Bakugou’s hands were rubbing your back absently, his lips pressing kisses against your neck.

Lying back with you still in his arms, you giggled quietly, moving yourself off to lie beside him, thighs aching and sticky with the mixture of your release. You watched him, studying the flush on his cheeks, the tiny freckles dotted across his nose that you’d never noticed before, never getting the chance to be close enough to see them.

His tongue peeked out to wet his lips as he brought his hand up to push a piece of unruly hair away from your face. “You okay?”

You hummed, nodding. “Better than okay.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb brushed over your cheek, fingers tucked in the hair behind your ear as he pulled you towards him to kiss your lips.

“Stay here tonight?” His voice was raspy when he asked, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He looked so soft and vulnerable at that moment, almost like he was afraid you would say no.

Katsuki Bakugou was never timid or quiet or afraid of anything. You worried for a moment you might have broken him. Too tired to move or tease him, you smiled. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Katsuki.”

---

Lunch was, once again, a rowdy affair. The girls sat around you, as usual, chattering and laughing. Everything was normal. Everything except for the fact that Ashido was staring you down, her elbow on the table, hand propping up her head.

You looked up from the math homework you were desperately trying to finish, meeting her eyes. “Is there something on my face, Ashido?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure it out.” She replied, looking at you incredulously.

Puzzled, you frowned. “Figure what out?”

“How you did it.”

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt a warm palm on your shoulder, and you turned to look into the ruby eyes of your boyfriend. He was holding out a bento box to you, his mouth in a tight line.

“Oh, thanks, Katsu. You didn’t have to.” You smiled up at him, taking the food from his outstretched hand.

“Don’t skip lunch, idiot. Eat it.” One of his eyebrows raised, as if daring you to challenge him.

You were hungry, so you didn’t, just nodding at him. He grunted and ruffled your hair before turning and walking towards his regular table, plopping down next to Kirishima and opening his own bento.

Moving your homework aside, you pulled the chopsticks off the top where he’d taped them to the lid and opened it, smiling down at the homemade meal.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Ashido cried, and you looked up to see her wide-eyed, pointing at your food. “Since when does Bakugou do anything remotely like that for anyone?”

Hagakure squealed. “It’s so cute! Did he make it himself?”

Nodding, you shoveled some rice into your mouth. He was such a good cook, everything he made was always delicious, and it was definitely a perk of dating him.

“Well, Ashido, when you’re dating someone, it’s not uncommon for them to bring you gifts.” Jirou chuckled, elbowing her friend. “They’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“She called him Katsu…” Ashido continued. “Anyone else would have gotten a Howitzer to the face!”

Furrowing your brows, you blinked at her. “He’s my boyfriend, Ashido.”

Throwing her head back, she groaned. “I know I’m just saying, it’s so weird to see him acting so...domestic. I’m just wondering if you have like...a magic pussy or something.”

The entire table grew silent, the group of you staring at her in disbelief.

“What did I just walk into?” A deep voice questioned behind you.

Turning in your seat, you saw Shinsou standing there, his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows raised. “Shinsou…”

“Can we talk for a second?” He looked nervous, and a little guilty. You cleared your throat, nodding as you stood up.

You could feel eyes on you from across the room, so you turned and looked over at Katsuki. He was standing up at his place at the table, brow furrowed and fists clenched at his sides. Kirishima was looking from him to you worriedly, his hand on your boyfriend’s forearm. Locking eyes with Katsuki, you smiled at him, shaking your head, mouthing at him that it was okay.

He didn’t look happy, but you watched as he sat back down, his glare trained on the purple-haired boy waiting to speak with you. You led Shinsou over to lean on the wall away from everyone, glancing up at him and waiting for him to speak.

“Look, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize to you again. I know my last attempt was kind of negated by what I said to Bakugou afterward and I feel like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.” He slumped against the wall and sighed. “You and I were always friends before any of that other stuff, and I don’t want to lose that.”

You blinked up at him, biting your lip in thought. He was right, you had always been great friends, even before you started sleeping together. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said, but it still hurt you, and you didn’t know how to go back to the way it had been before. “I don’t know, Hitoshi.”

His brows furrowed when you used his real name. “Hey, listen. I’ll do whatever it takes. You just...take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready, okay?”

“I appreciate you apologizing, though. I accept it, I’m just not sure what to do from here. Our relationship has always been a little unconventional, and I’ve got Bakugou now…” Your gaze cut over to your boyfriend, his eyes still glued to Shinsou, a scowl on his face.

“I’m surprised he didn’t leap over the table and attack me when I came up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s kind of...feral.”

Snorting, you shook your head. “He trusts me. He’s not a bad guy, I tried to tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later then, Kitten. You know my number.” He smiled at you, bumping his shoulder against yours before walking away.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you walked back over to your table and sat down, picking up your chopsticks again.

“Man, who is that pod person sitting there pretending to be Bakugou?” Ashido continued her rant from earlier, Shinsou’s visit and Bakugou’s subdued reaction adding more ammunition to her argument. “Normally he would have shoved his foot in Todoroki’s cold soba trying to get his hands on Shinsou.”

Shrugging, you glanced up at her, and then over to Katsuki, who was eating his rice moodily, his forehead creased. “He knows I can take care of myself.”

“I swear to god,” Ashido sighed. “Aliens.”

She decided to leave it at that, the rest of your table giggling at her. You knew she was right though, Katsuki normally would have made good on his promise to rip off Hitoshi’s face. You had spoken to him about it a few nights before, however, and he respected your wish to handle it yourself. Even if he did grumble about it afterward.

When you’d finished your lunch, you packed up the bento in your bag along with the math homework you were never going to finish and stood up. Saying goodbye to your friends, you walked over to the boy’s table, leaning on the end of it. “Gentlemen.”

Todoroki nodded at you over his soba, slurping up the noodles on his chopsticks.

“Y/N, baby, how are you?” Kaminari asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, smiling when you saw him jolt, hissing in pain, and slumping over. “Bakubro, that was my shin!”

“Serves you right,” Your explosive blonde grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. “Show some respect, dunce face.”

“Yeah, you can’t hit on her anymore, dude.” Sero pointed out before he turned back to you and smiled. “Hi, Y/N.”

Kirishima grinned at you. “Bakugou, that’s so manly. Defending your girl’s honor.”

“Tch.” Katsuki stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and ignoring his friends. He turned his attention to you. “Did you finish your math?”

Smiling sheepishly, you grabbed his hand. “Nope. Come help me?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, his arm sliding around your waist as you walked together. “Maybe.” Smirking down at you, his fingers squeezed your hip. “What’s in it for me?”

“My endless love and affection?” You pouted, batting your lashes up at him.

He shook his head. “I have that anyways, don’t I, Princess?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x reader #kingexpl0sionmurder writes

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

Text

Hermitcraft Great British Bake Off AU

(Or the Great British Baking Show outside the UK)

With the start of a new series, I thought I'd compile this AU I came up with a while ago. Big shout out to @skywillsometimeswrite who helped me brainstorm nearly all of this (and accidentally got into the series sorry. Time to get emotional over bakers again.)

It's Great British Bake Off, where the hermits take the place of the contestants, judges and some of the crew (with the recap boys as the hosts!) It follows the structure of the show, but to add maximum fluffiness, nobody leaves and the show works on a point system instead. The loser of each week does the washing up. (Not that the winner matters, this is all about the shenanigans.) Further explanations and what role each hermit fills with a short bio is under the cut!

The recording structure follows the usual routine. It takes place over several weeks, with the recording happening at the weekend. They stay at a hotel over the weekend. On the Saturday they record the Signature Challenge and the Technical. On the Sunday they film the Showstopper. Each week is themed, with the challenges fitting into that theme. The themes are often based around a certain kind of baking (pastry, bread, chocolate) but sometimes around time periods, places, or diets. I recommend googling or watching an episode of the show but a brief explanation of the challenges:

The Signature Challenge: They're given a certain thing (cake, pastry, biscuit, etc) to create. They've been able to practice at home. This is the opportunity to show personality and a home-cooked, rustic style with tried and tested bakes.

The Technical: The Judges take turns each week to set a recipe for an often uncommon bake. The recipe is bare-bones and the bakers have to use their intuition and knowledge about baking to create what's intended. This round is unpractised, and judged blind, with the judges outside the tent for the duration. The aim is to perfectly replicate the recipe given and that's how they're judged.

The Showstopper: A chance to bring out the big guns! They're often given a theme and a type of bake and then the contestants can go wild. The aim is to create something of professional quality, that makes the judges go 'wow' and still tastes good. Also practiced over the week, though sometimes less due to the size of the bakes.

Now onto the hermits:

The Judges are TFC and Biffa. TFC is the friendlier of the two. He does his best to find positives in bakes, although he enjoys making jokes about things that go wrong. Most of the contestants come to think of him as a grandad. Biffa gives more thorough criticism, but it helps the contestants improve a lot and is tailored towards the advice they need. They enjoy talking to the contestants about their bakes and lives outside the tent, both on and off camera. They've both had long careers in the industry.

The Hosts are our recap boys, Pixelriffs and Zloy. They're a dynamic duo in front of the camera, riffing off each other and the contestants naturally. They have a good balance of improvisation and planned skits. Zloy will doodle scenes from the tent during their downtime.

In alphabetical order, the Contestants:

1. Beef: Works as a butcher. It's often joked about, and not helped by him spilling red food colouring on his apron early in the series. He's incredibly good at piping and often creates artworks on top of his bakes for decoration. Absolutely smashes any biscuit decoration.

2. Cleo: Works as a teacher. Ironically, has to be censored at least once an episode and continuously hopes none of her students watch. It's hard to tell what she's doing until the last minute when she pulls it all together. She enjoys making little figures from fondant or rice crispy marshmallow mix.

3. Cub: Runs a sports equipment company. He likes coming up with creative solutions to the challenges and surprises the others by how focused he can become once in the zone. He has a deadpan sense of humour and a willingness to commit to bits. Often banters with Scar.

4. Etho: His job seems to change every time he mentions it. It never fails to catch the others off guard. He rarely explains his bakes, and his ability to mix flavours that shouldn't work but somehow do is infuriating. Sometimes, as he waits for things to bake, he uses the free time to play music on the baking equipment.

5. False: Works as a bodyguard. She says the details of her job are classified and never brings it up again. Nobody is sure if she's joking, but she's built. She's a very precise builder, with perfectionist tendencies that can sometimes come back to bite her if she focuses on them too much. She jumps between different themes with ease when decorating.

6. Grian: Works as an architect. He's fond of going big with his bakes, trying to push the limits of what's possible. However, he often gives himself too much to do, and ends up having to rush, disguise unfinished parts or the other contestants help him finish. He's bubbly in front of the camera and enjoys the occasional prank.

7. Impulse: Works as an electrical engineer. Also anxiety central. He's a very technical baker who's brilliant at following recipes. However, he will restart a bake if very minor things go wrong, which often leaves him pressed for time. Despite this, he's one of the most likely people to jump in and help someone who's struggling.

8. Keralis: Owns a bookstore. He loves decorating and his bakes are always some of the prettiest in the tent. Although he has a sleek, modern style, he can branch out when needed. He makes up his own pronunciation for ingredients, bakes and the other people in the tent. Gradually, everyone else starts using them too.

9. Scar: Works as a landscaper. Skilled at detailing and has out of the box thinking for his designs. Likes creating vehicles. However, sometimes he finds himself hiding bad baking with his decoration. His name proves accurate when half of his arm ends up bandaged in the first episode. Becomes good friends with Bdubs because of this.

10. Stress: Works as a personal trainer. Her bakes are always bright and colourful. It isn't a Stress bake if it doesn't make you smile. She's fairly equal on her decorating and her baking and enjoys a cartoonish style. A delight to have in the tent, loves helping other contestants and cheers them up if something doesn't go to plan.

11. xB: Medical researcher. His bakes are always creative, with fun stories behind them, if a bit dark. He's soft-spoken and doesn't raise his voice. He never quite swears but always comes close. The others can tell something's gone wrong when they hear a quiet 'dangit' or 'son of a-' and somebody jumps to find out what's happened.

12. Xisuma: Works as bee-keeper. He loves big shapes and patterns in his bakes. Often keeps things healthy(ish). He's primarily a technical baker and researches and practices his bakes extensively. However, he has a tendency to panic and makes silly mistakes (salt instead of sugar, forget to turn on the oven, etc.)

The Crew Members:

Camera Crew:

Mumbo: Sometimes mistaken for being on a work placement/internship. He enjoys his work and takes a lot of the detail shots of the bakes. Although he can keep to himself, Iskall often brings him out of his shell and encourages him to chat with the contestants.

Ren: He's an incredibly chill presence to be around. He'll do his best to chat with contestants in-between filming and try to calm them down or hype them up. Usually he films stressful sequences with a reassuring smile and kind words. He enjoys singing in their downtime.

Zed: Very bouncy. He enjoys rushing around the tent to get over the shoulder shots or focus on the detail. He's good friends with Tango, and maybe he occasionally worries he’s ‘broken’ something to get the chance to talk to him on set.

Sound:

Wels: He's calm and organised. He tests everybody's microphones are working and manages audio levels. He's good at handling distractions, but if they manage to catch him off-set they find he has a fun sense of humour and can give genuinely good advice. Enjoys singing to test the microphones when he thinks nobody's listening.

Wardrobe:

Iskall: Most of his work is done off-set, and he becomes good friends with the contestants, discussing their plans for bakes and chatting. He'll dart onto set to touch up make up when the cameras are off, offering words of encouragement as he does. Though it’s a bit concerning when he calls people’s bakes ‘of doom’.

On-site Medic:

Bdubs: Bdubs is a familiar sight with the accident prone contestants. He's always there with calm words and enthusiasm, talking the contestant down from their worry about their injury, helping them to relax. Despite his silliness, it's obvious he takes his job seriously. The contestants are glad to have him.

Set Manager:

Jevin: A bit chaotic, but he helps make sure things are set for filming. He enjoys getting the ingredients ready for the day and working out what they'll need. He also enjoys bullying Hypno. They've worked together a few times now. He enjoys a good joke when he gets the chance.

Hypno: Fairly relaxed, but he can appreciate a good joke and he appreciates Jevin. He helps organise ingredients and makes sure that things run smoothly on set. Very precise with his work, he doesn't cut corners and makes sure everyone has what they need, when they need it. A good person for the contestants to talk to.

Researcher:

Joe: He takes great pride in searching recipes, trying new things and adding them to his repertoire. Sure he might use a few too many words, but he's good at his job. He's not often on set, working mostly with Jevin and Hypno behind the scenes. But he might step in as tech if he's needed. A bit of a cryptid to the contestants.

Technicians:

Tango: A good friend of Zed. Even though he has some... Less than professional terms, he does his job well, and enjoys the opportunities he gets to socialise with the bakers. Very smiley and friendly, however if he’s in the tent, it’s likely something has gone very wrong. He's terrible at baking himself, much to the amusement of those who find out.

Doc: More serious than Tango, he's there to do a job, not make friends. Then he ends up making friends anyway. They're infectious. Grian enjoys 'breaking' things to annoy him (and have a chance to pull him on set to talk to him.) He does, secretly, enjoy the shenanigans the contestants get up to. But he'd never admit it.

Keeping in mind, I care less about the accuracy of this and more about The Shenanigans:

The first time Xisuma gets everything correct in a bake, he is convinced he’s still got something wrong. He spends the entire time until judging expecting there will be something wrong with it that they only discover during judging. A lot of memes are made out of his worrying.

At the end of filming during the heatwave, they have a lake party. Someone challenges Cub to jump in the lake and he cannonballs straight in. The others are surprised. Scar, who knows him well enough by then, is not. Doc is dragged in. Xisuma sits neatly on the edge and looks so relaxed they’d feel too guilty pulling him in. Keralis sits next to him and splashes him a little instead.

Cleo will make frequent asides to her students to try and impart good messages. Sometimes she swears during them. Then swears again upon realising. She uses her teacher voice on the other contestants a few times by accident (and on purpose.)

Someone doubts False’s strength. It’s probably Grian. She makes a beeline straight for him and hauls him onto her shoulder. And possibly into the lake. She makes it her mission to pick up most of the guys, whether they’re ready or not (with prior consent, of course.)

Stress and False work out together in the mornings. Sometimes some of the other contestants will join them and she’ll lead an impromptu work out session. She also does yoga in the evenings to calm down after filming. A fair few join her for that.

Some of Etho’s jobs include: ‘I’m a gardener so I want this cake to include edible flowers’, ‘I’m a beekeeper so I wanted to use honey.’, ‘I’m a piano tuner so music is a big part of my life’, ‘I used to hack as a part-time job’. His job subtitle changes each episode. He gets a lot of concerned looks from other contestants.

Grian and Scar become frenemies because they’re bench buddies. Grian loves bullying Mumbo off-camera. He argues with Iskall over wearing anything but a red sweater. He loves complimenting everyone’s bakes. He makes a lot of friends.

Tango and Zed often try to take jobs on the same productions. Zed likes to bother Tango with stupid ways to make broken tech work. Impulse will sit there and try to fix it in earnest. They have to remind Impulse he’s supposed to having a break before filming resumes. The three quickly become friends and can be found hanging out together.

During one of the heatwaves, Impulse near passes out from heat exhaustion. There’s eleven concerned people crowding around him, and it’s one of the only times Bdubs has to seriously raise his voice to gain control of the situation. The others are all sat outside in the shade and given water. Impulse goes back to the hotel and is ambushed by a lot of very concerned friends later that day. They take good care of him and threaten to beat him up if he doesn’t take better care of himself.

During Saturday evenings is when they’ll all lounge around the hotel and hype each other up for the show stopper. They like discussing what their plans are and sharing their ideas. A lot of dumb things happen to help work off the nervous excitement.

There’s also a lot of calming each other down when they’re stressed out and caring about each other. It’s the Found Family VibesTM.

Even though washing up is supposed to be a punishment, a group of them usually end up doing it together and singing loudly and terribly to the radio.

One of the contestants catches Wels singing as he tests his microphone and drags him outside to come and jam with the contestants. Ren joins in. Etho provides backing. It delays things a little but they agree it’s worth it.

Keralis and Beef at some point have some made up war between them that is completely stupid, entirely overdramatic, and gives all the contestants a lot to laugh about.

There is, absolutely, a prank war part way through the season. It also extends off-set. Nobody is safe.

I haven’t seen anyone doing this AU before, and I apologise if they have! I hope there’s enough unique ideas to set it apart. But yeah, this is the AU I use when I just want some Fluffy content. Thanks for reading!

#hermitcraft #grian #xisuma #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #my writing #idk who else i should tag sjfhkd #docm77 #tangotek #zedaph #impulsesv #cause i mean they get a spotlight??#i don't like using all the hermits its scary #but yeah this is my comfort au #enjoy it sjbfhjs #falsesymmetry #zombiecleo #yeah thats it #gbbo hc au

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cellsshapedlikestars · 4 years ago

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Can you do Jonsa Gladiator AU or Mob AU? Angsty but happy ending pleeeeeease! ❤

❤️❤️ thank you for the prompt!

a few things...

1) I’m not really into mob stuff so I chose gladiator????

2) I don’t know anything about gladiators and was too lazy to do research so....... whoops! most of this comes from cursory google searching, my viewing of the movie Gladiator when I was a child, and my Latin classes in middle school.

3) I’m not completely sure if this fits the angst prompt or even the gladiator prompt, really, but I tried my best

4) does this plot make sense? who knows!

5) the seven kingdoms are separate kingdoms in this just as an FYI, except the Iron Islands which is part of the North for Reasons™

6) these are supposed to be fairly short fics/drabbles but this turned into nearly 4k words because I have ZERO self control

7) here’s gladiator Jon to make up for this fic’s shortcomings:

In the pit, he stands over his opponent and waits for the Emperor's decision.

They call him the Northman, they call him the Barbarian, but from this far away, she cannot tell. If he is Northern, he has been in the south too long. His skin is tanned golden and they have clad him in Northern armor, but perhaps he is just a southerner with dark hair that they have dressed up for fun. It isn't even true Northern armor, but she supposes that is likely because of the heat and the sun.

The Emperor raises his hand and gives the signal and in the pit, she watches him execute his opponent without hesitation and she thinks, no, it is not him.

….

She is seven years old when Jon's horse is maimed on a ride and they must put it down. She is not there when it happens, but later she finds him hiding in a corner in the stables with tears staining his face. He will not come out, does not want to face the teasing from Theon or Robb. She knows what it is like, to be teased for crying, and so she sits with him and she never tells a soul.

….

“Alayne is ever so interested in the gladiators,” Margaery leans forward, like she is telling the Emperor a secret.

“They do not have them in the North,” she says, keeping her eyes low. This is what she is good at, this is what she knows – playing a demure lady. Timid, accommodating, and one with no secrets.

She does not want to meet the Emperor, not really. From what she has seen during her time in King's Landing, he has proven to be every bit as cruel as the rumors made him out to be.

“I never imagined such a beauty from the North,” the Emperor says with a smile that would be charming if she didn't know better.

“Usually Northern women look just like their men!” some man she does not know jokes, he is drunk and loud, and the others around wait for the Emperor's reaction before deciding what their own is. The Emperor laughs, though, and the others follow suit.

“I heard the barbarian King is part wolf himself,” some noblewoman says, her hair twisted into an elaborate, painfully tight style. “I hear he eats raw meat and sleeps on the floor!”

“Have you ever met the Northern King, Alayne?” The Emperor turns to her and gives her a predatory smile.

“I have not, Oldcastle is so far from Winterfell, you see,” she lies and manages to keep a straight face, though she can feel her blood pounding furiously through her veins. She hopes they think the flush in her cheeks is from the wine and not her anger. “And I am from a lesser house.”

She is relieved when she is finally able to get away, as Margaery leads her around the room and introduces her to all the King's Landing elite. Margaery is from The Reach, but has been in King's Landing long enough to know all the players.

Finally, finally, they meet someone who can help.

“If Lady Alayne is so interested in the gladiators, perhaps I could give her a tour,” a man with salt and pepper hair and a pointed beard and a slick smile offers.

She can tell Margaery does not like this man, but this is what she needs and so she gives the man what she hopes is an innocently excited smile and says “oh, could you?”

…..

When Jon gets past Robb to rescue her, she throws herself into his arms and sighs “thank you, Dragonknight.”

“Dragonknight?” she hears Robb snort and she pulls back from Jon and scowls.

“Don't ruin it, Robb,” she stomps her foot as Jon laughs. She hears Robb say something as he moves away, but she does not care. Robb is terrible at playing monsters-and-maidens, but Jon is a better sport. She likes when Jon rescues her and he usually does not make fun of her when she makes up names for them. She is good at that, making up names and stories.

“Don't listen to him,” Jon tells her and she gives him a bright smile. Jon is always the most fun to play with. She does not have much in common with her cousin, but he is always kind and he plays along, better than Robb or Arya or Theon.

She rewards him for rescuing her with a kiss to his cheek and she likes the way he ducks his head and blushes and she spends the rest of the day with Jeyne talking about what it meant.

….

This is a waste, she thinks as Petyr Baelish leads her through the fortress that houses the gladiators. They are all in cells and they stare at her as she passes and she feels something sour in the pit of her stomach. She and everyone in the North have heard of the gladiators of the southern kingdoms, but it is not something they practice in the North and it makes her sick. Feigning interest and enthusiasm in it makes her sick. The Emperor with his golden smile makes her sick. The man leading her right now makes her sick.

She is sick of the south and she wants to go home, but this is what she came for and she will see it through, though she knows it is pointless. Theon was wrong.

She pretends to look at the various gladiators as Baelish talks, but she barely hears him. She has spotted the Northman's cell and it is all she can do not to walk directly over to it and confirm that it is not him so that this can be over. When it is over, she can leave. She can go back home and stop pretending to be Alayne and she'll deal with father's wrath but at least she will be home. She will be home and she can finally rid herself of the sick, choking hope that has been inside her ever since Theon had come back to Winterfell from his trip to the southern kingdoms and told them what he found.

What he thought he found, she reminds herself. Theon was wrong.

Finally, they arrive at the cell she wants and she looks inside at the man lounging on his cot. Unlike the others, he has not gotten up to stand at the bars to watch her. He is not leering at her or saying crude things like many of the others. It almost seems like he is ignoring them, pretending they are not there.

“What is your name,” she asks and steps closer to the cell. Behind her, she can hear Baelish make a sound of protest, telling her not to get too close. She knows the gladiator hears her, but he does not respond and she feels annoyance creep through her. He is dragging this out, making her stay here longer than she needs to. “You, Northman,” she says in her best imperious tone, “what is your name?”

“The lady asked you a question,” she hears Baelish's voice slither from behind her and one of the jailers clangs on the metal bars, like the gladiator is some sort of animal.

The gladiator finally sits up and she can't quite see him in the darkness of his cell. It isn't him, she reminds herself, but she feels frustrated because she needs to be certain. He looks at her and she watches him slowly stand up, but he stays back, in the shadows, and finally he says “they call me a lot of things,” and he shrugs. His voice is rough and low and something swoops low in her stomach because... because he sounded Northern. She needs to hear more words, needs to hear the accent.

“Are you actually Northern or just some southerner dressed in a costume?” she makes her voice as haughty and challenging as she can, her own Northern accent becoming just a little bit thicker than the polished one she uses down here (and somewhere, distant in her mind, she recognizes her tone as the one she used to tease him with, the one that could always get a rise out of him).

When he scowls and steps forward with an almost snarl, hope claws at her chest but she pushes it down.

“I'm more Northern than you are,” he spits, and one hand comes up to curl around the bars of his cell. In the light, she can see his grey eyes and his long face and she feels her hands start to shake.

“You'll watch your tongue,” Baelish says, but the gladiator ignores him.

“Look at you, all dressed up in their clothing,” he mocks, his eyes raking over her dress and her elaborately styled hair (her brown hair, she had just touched up the dye last night).

What is your name? She wants to scream it, wants to drop to her knees in front of his cell and beg for it, but she cannot. Petyr Baelish is here and somewhere, hovering in the shadows, is Varys. They are watching her and she has spent too much time here already and there is only so much she can excuse her behavior with we're both Northern and I am curious.

And so instead she backs away and turns to Baelish and tells him to take her home.

….

“You can't!” she sobs and tugs on his arm. “I don't want you to go!”

Jon sighs and carefully removes her hand from his arm, but he doesn't let it go, he holds it and brings his other hand up to cup her jaw.

“It will only be for a few months,” he sighs. “I'll come back.”

He is going away to visit Uncle Benjen and though he promises he is not going to take the Black, she still worries. He is sixteen and thinks himself a man grown.

“You promise?” she sniffs, her voice wavering too much.

“I promise,” his voice does not waver and his eyes never leave hers. “And when I come back, I'll talk to Uncle Ned.”

This is something they have not spoken of, not since that night. Not since the feast where Jeyne had snuck her more wine and she had gotten tipsy and kissed Jon as he had escorted her back to her rooms. She remembers him pulling away, remembers him telling her that she was drunk and didn't know what she was doing. She remembers telling him that he was a coward that would never ask for her hand and then storming into her room and slamming the door in his face.

“You will?”

“Aye,” he breathes and though she can tell he is nervous, he does not look away. “I'm no coward.”

….

She feels as though she will vomit, standing in one of Margaery's guest rooms where she has been staying for nearly three months now. Three months of dying her hair and pretending to be Alayne. Two months to see him in person, another to finally work up to asking Margaery to arrange this.

Sansa endured her sly smiles, her little jabs. “I suppose if you're homesick, it might be nice to have a bit of the North in your bed,” Margaery had grinned. “You're taking a risk though, Dany will be furious if she finds out.”

And so she had learned that Daenerys favored the Northman, brought him often to her bed and the idea turned her stomach, but she had held it together in front of Margaery.

But now Margaery is not here, off at a celebration for the Emperor's name day, and she cannot keep herself together. There is still a chance it is not him, but oh she cannot help the hope that has blossomed once again in her. And tonight is the night, it has to be. Most of the city will be celebrating the Emperor, no one will be watching a minor lady from the North.

He is led in by guards and she sees him for the first time in full light and it does nothing to dispel the hope. It has been nearly seven years since she last saw him, and this man's skin is darker, his hair longer, a beard where only sparse hairs had been before. A scar runs through his brow, another on his chin, and she can see others lining his arms, his hands.

He stands in the center of the room with his hands linked behind his back and a blank expression and his eyes look unfocused and far away and she wants to scream.

When she stands from the bed, she cannot think of a single thing to say except “what is your name?”

He stares straight ahead, expressionless, as he says “you can call me whatever you want.”

“No,” she cries and stomps her foot like she hasn't since she was a little girl. “What is your name?”

He turns to her, his eyes coming back into focus and she watches his brows furrow, just a bit. After a few moments of silence, he says “Jon,” and she nearly weeps with relief.

Theon was right.

….

When Arya crashes into the room, Sansa looks up from her sewing as Septa Mordane begins to scold her, but Arya is not listening.

Arya is crying. She never cries, and Sansa feels her stomach drop as Arya's eyes find hers.

“They were attacked, Jon and Uncle Benjen,” Arya stutters and Sansa has never seen her so wrecked. “They're all dead.”

Sansa barely feels her sewing hoop slip from her fingers and all she can think is that this is a lie, it cannot be true. He cannot be dead, he promised to come back. He promised to ask for her hand.

….

Jon is a common name but she knows deep in her heart that it is him and so she reaches up and undoes the scarf that hides her washed out hair. For a moment he does not move, he simply watches her copper hair fall around her shoulders and then his eyes move from it to her face and then to her hands as she pulls her direwolf pendant from where it was hidden beneath the neckline of her dress.

She cannot tell what he is thinking, he says nothing, only stares.

“Jon,” she breathes, taking a step forward and reaching for him, but he jerks back, like her touch will burn and she feels tears well up. She isn't wrong, she can't be.

“No,” is all he says, shaking his head slowly. “You can't be here.”

“Jon-”

“These people... you can't be here,” he's angry now and he moves forward and grabs her shoulders and grips them tight, but she is not scared because it is Jon.

“Oi,” a voice sounds from behind them and Jon freezes, “watch the hands.”

Sansa watches as Arya slips out from behind the curtain and moves forward, one hand casually resting on the knife at her hip.

“I know you're my cousin, but I'll still gut you if you hurt her.”

Jon turns to stare at Arya and his face has paled under his tan and Sansa watches everything from fear to anger to despair cross his face and she hates it.

“That's Arya's way of saying hello,” she tries to joke, tries to break the tension, but she's crying and so her tone is all wrong.

“You can't be here,” Jon whispers again, letting go of her shoulders and backing away from the both of them.

“Like hell,” Arya scowls. “We're here to rescue you, you idiot, pull yourself together.”

“Be nice,” Sansa scolds, but from the way Jon straightens up, she thinks maybe the direct approach is best. As it is, she's barely holding herself together and she thinks maybe they need Arya to get them through this.

…..

Theon pulls them into a room and Robb rolls his eyes and tells him to stop being dramatic.

“What's this great secret?” Arya asks, leaning against a table as Sansa settles herself in the chair.

They all expect theatrics from Theon, it's who he is, and he's been away for nearly a year, traveling the southern kingdoms to gather intelligence for their father. So of course Theon has some scintillating story to tell them, but this is beyond his usual fanfare. The secrecy of it all, it's a little much.

“You know the gladiator games in the south, right,” Theon says, but it isn't a question. Of course they do. The games are most popular in the Crownlands and the Reach and the Westerlands, but they are also held in the Stormlands and the Riverlands and the Vale. Dorne is the only other kingdom to ban them outright like the North.

“Don't tell me it's your new dream to be a gladiator,” Robb jokes but it falls flat as Theon seems to pale. This isn't his usual way of telling stories, all giddy excitement and exaggeration. He is serious and Robb falls silent as they all realize this.

“I saw a match in King's Landing and there was... they call him the Northman and I swear, I swear to you, it was Jon.”

He barely gets the sentence out before Robb snarls and grabs him by the collar and slams him into the wall. Sansa feels as though she is in a daze as she watches Robb nearly choke Theon, as Arya grabs him and pulls him back and Theon staggers to his feet and pulls in gasping breaths.

“What sort of fucking sick joke-” Arya starts, just as angry even though she saved his life.

“It isn't,” Theon whispers, still trying to get his breath back. “I swear to you. I debated whether to tell you or not the whole way back. I haven't even told the King. I couldn't be sure, they didn't give me his name or anything, but he looks exactly like one of you Starks. And he's the right age and...”

Sansa hears nothing further. Jon is dead. He and Uncle Benjen had been killed in a raid by clansmen disloyal to her father. They had found Uncle Benjen’s body, not Jon’s, but there had been a fire that had burned some beyond recognition and Jon is dead.

…..

They do not have much time and Sansa pulls a set of clothes out of the dresser for Jon. He is too conspicuous in his current state and they had managed to steal a set of commoner's clothes for him. He strips out of his tunic and Sansa blushes and turns away, though he does not seem to care about his state of undress and she wonders how often he is forced to be naked in front of others (and she thinks again to Margaery telling her that he was a favorite of Daenerys, the faraway look in his eyes when he thought he was here for the same thing).

When he is ready, they slip out of the room and Arya leads them through back corridors and secret passageways.

In the months that Sansa has been ingratiating herself into King's Landing society, Arya has been learning all their secrets. Their guard patterns and exits and which servants are less loyal than others. And Sansa knows that somewhere along the coast, Theon is waiting for them with his sister's ship. Back home in Winterfell, Robb is lying for them, holding off mother and father's suspicions for as long as possible, intercepting ravens from the Eyrie that would tell the King and Queen that their daughters are not actually there.

She has been waiting for it all to fall apart, for one of them to slip up, for it not to be Jon at all, and so it feels unreal as they arrive at the stables to find three horses waiting and a stableboy plied with gold. The stableboy punches Arya in the arm and they seem to be friends and Sansa would laugh if she weren't so terrified that she is going to wake up any second.

But she does not wake up and instead they leave the city and ride for hours and hours, making their way north and east, until they finally reach a small seaside town.

They do not dare to get a room at the local inn and so they wait in the woods at the outskirts of town until they see the ship come in to dock. It flies a Manderly flag but when they sneak on board, Theon greets them and it is only when they are properly out to sea that Sansa lets herself believe that this is real.

“I knew it was you,” Theon grips Jon's shoulders and they never truly got along as children, but that doesn't seem to matter now.

Later that night, she cannot sleep and so she leaves her cot and heads up on deck and she finds him standing at the rails and she somehow knew she would.

“You came for me,” he says, his voice dull and disbelieving.

“Of course we did,” she whispers, she doesn't trust her voice not to break if she speaks any louder. “You always rescued me when we were kids, it was time for me to rescue you.”

For a moment he is silent and then he lets out a sharp laugh. He does not point out that he never truly rescued her, it was only play. He does not scold her for putting herself in danger. Instead, his head drops and his whole body seems to sag against the rail as if it is the only thing keeping him upright. She moves forward and wraps her arms around his middle and then he seems to transfer his weight from the rail to her and she does not mind.

She does not know what he has been through, truly, and if she were being honest with herself, she's not sure she wants to know. The horrors she had witnessed in the few gladiator matches she attended, the way the nobles talked about them like they were animals to be used and discarded, the cold cell he had been kept in, his rage when he did not know it was her, the way he almost seemed to disappear inside himself when he was brought to her rooms.

She feels as though she should not know this Jon who has been gone for seven years and who has been through so much. He should feel like a stranger to her, but he doesn't and she thinks he never will, because he is Jon. No matter what they have done to him, he will always be Jon, he will always be hers.

It did not happen the way it was supposed to and he needed help to do it, but he promised to come home to her and Jon always keeps his promises.

#jonsa #jonsa fic #prompt fic #gladiator au #mostly an excuse to post that pic

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Geralt and the Minotaur p3

Y’all this could get hella complicated if I go hard with all the character sub ideas and all that but I’m here for the relationship so its gonna be bare bones on combining the canon bc I’m just not that skilled as a writer 😂

Pairing : Geraskier

Warnings: talk of human sacrifice, talk of cannibalism, ye ole impending death, mention parents death, imprisonment, public humiliation (kinda), we got major soft boys falling for each other vibes too

part 2 here!

__________

Geralt woke with his head still resting on Jaskier’s thigh, though he was now lying on his side, resting his head against Geralt’s hip just above the dagger tucked in his belt. He had draped his arm over Jaskier’s waist as they slept, holding him closer, and Jaskier’s arm was resting on Geralt’s chest. It was still dark and, from the sounds of it, everyone else was still asleep save a few soldiers at the helm. The waves had settled to a gentle lapping at the hull and Geralt found himself completely relaxed and at peace for the first time in weeks. His hand rose and fell in a gentle rhythm with Jaskier’s breathing and every now and then the blue eyed boy would sigh, bringing a soft sleepy smile to Geralt’s face. He didn’t dare move, lest he break the spell, but someone else woke from a nightmare with a scream that shattered his illusion.

Jaskier hummed and nuzzled into Geralt’s hip before he was fully awake, making the prince blush furiously and gasp. Sure he’d fallen asleep with friends and romantic interests back home, but that sensation was… different.

“Is it morning?” Jaskier mumbled, not moving to sit, but at least the nuzzling had stopped.

“Probably,” Geralt answered, resisting the urge to run his hand over Jaskier’s shoulder, “still early.”

“You haven’t been lying awake all this time have you?”

Geralt forced a breath out his nose in amusement, “Only a few minutes or so.”

Jaskier sat up, laying his arm over Geralt’s, keeping it wrapped around his waist as he moved to be able to inspect the young hero’s face, “You still look… weary.”

Geralt frowned, shifting so he was leaning on his elbow over the boy’s legs, still very much resting on him, “I wonder why?”

Jaskier smirked, “Is it true you’re a child of Poseidon? Why not sink the ship and we can all ride horses made of sea foam back to the mainland?”

Geralt cast his eyes down to the deck, “They’d just come back for more. It doesn’t matter who’s son I am or what favor I do or don't have.”

"Pull the weed at the root." Jaskier nodded.

Geralt hummed in agreement, sitting all the way up to lean against the mast next to the brunette, "What about your family? Anything exciting waiting for you at home?"

Jaskier hooked his arm around Geralt's and rested his head on his shoulder, "Doesn't matter."

"Does to me." Geralt mumbled, a little taken aback by the physical affection. When Jaskier rolled his eyes he laid his hand over his knee, "Humor me."

They sat and waited for the sun to rise over the water as they discussed Jaskier’s life. His parents death, the farm he worked for his uncle, the mundane little things like how often he gets sent to the market and who cuts his hair. They learned each other's birthdays as a joke, but the hopeful side of Geralt still repeated it to him a few minutes later just to be safe. Jaskier asked him about life at the palace, if it was as grand as everyone believed. Geralt felt squeamish admitting he didn’t know, seeing as he'd only really lived in the lap of luxury. Sure his trek to Athens was dirty and many nights he slept in barns, but most of his 20 years were spent in bright white togas and tunics with colorfully stitched hems. Jaskier didn’t seem bothered, he just asked more specific questions about the beds and the fountains. He pontificated for a while on the poor musical choices made in a performance at the amphitheater last summer and did his best to explain to Geralt how to delicately pluck a harp using a lock of his white hair as a prop. Joking was easy, being earnest wasn’t quite effortless, but it was easier than with other people, and Geralt lamented that they’d only met yesterday.

“Do you think you’d’ve given me the time of day?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt grinned, giving the brunet's leg another squeeze, “You wouldn’t have given me a choice.”

Jaskier rested his chin on Geralt's shoulder, his hair fluttering into his eyes and glowing gold as the sun began to peek over the waves, "Probably not, no." His voice was soft in Geralt's ear, the warmth of his breath made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

Geralt turned to look at him, their noses brushing. He was about to ask Jaskier something reckless and naive, no doubt born of desperation, but the moment was broken by shouting.

"LAND" Echoed from various soldiers and strangled sobs broke out in response. Reality was once again stubbornly planted in the forefront of Geralt's mind and he forced himself to pull away. His heart beat furiously in his chest as he stood to get a better look.

Someone gripped his elbow and spun him around, staring up at him with wide eyes full of terror, "You can do it, can't you? You can get us home?" The harsh whisper seemed to carry over the whole group, commanding their silence and attention as they formed a circle around him.

Vessimir's parting words echoed in his head, he was a leader now, he had to act like it. His year of lessons and training and taking notes were over and he knew right then that even if they made it back, he'd never have a day of peace again.

With a glance back toward Jaskier he nodded, "I will bring us home or die trying."

The person's grip on his elbow tightened and he stared back at them with what he hoped was reassuring confidence for a moment before they released him, "Do you have a plan?"

All his preparation could never have braced him for the absolute devastation on the group's faces when he hesitated. In the fraction of a second he took to open his mouth they knew. Only Jaskier seemed to accept the facts and take them in stride.

"All I know for sure is that we need to make it out and back to the docks by dawn." Geralt's admission was met with curt nods from some and fresh tears from others, "I'm sorry."

Jaskier pipped up, stepping into the center of the small crowd with Geralt, "You volunteered to try to save us. We need no apology." He sent a glare to someone about to speak in protest, cutting them off, "It's more than we've had in the last 18 years and I, for one, am grateful."

Geralt gave him an appreciative nod but their theatrics were drawing attention from the soldiers. He shooed everyone away, not sure he could handle another altercation this close to the soldiers homeland where they'd have something to prove to onlookers.

As they drew nearer to the shore they heard shouts of laughter and music, saw banners waving in the wind and people dancing around the port. They were throwing a festival. A festival of revenge and dominance over their enemies, where people who would have been sacrifices delighted in the activities. It made Geralt's stomach churn.

Jaskier stood next to him as close to the bow as they were allowed, "Twisted, isn't it? And they wonder how we so readily believe they eat their brethren."

Geralt took his hand, searching for anything to ground him as the fear crept up his neck and threatened to strangle him, "Monsters never think they're monsters."

"You like being cryptic don't you?" Jaskier sighed, keeping his eyes forward as the festivities grew clearer and clearer.

Geralt only shrugged in response.

Soon enough they were all corralled by the soldiers with shouts and shoves. They tied Geralt's hands first, yanking on the rope so it burned into his wrists. The man was watching his face, waiting to see him wince or twitch. He gave them nothing. The end of the rope was then tied to Jaskier and so on until they were all lined up, hands bound in front of them and linked like sausages.

When they docked there was a heavy drum roll, fitting for the captives in line behind Geralt trembling. The plank was lowered by soldiers in what had to be ceremonial dress and when they stepped back the drummers hit one last beat, leaving the whole crowd silent.

At the front, surrounded by soldiers and standing on a throne made to be carried, was King Minos. His eyes were cold and calculating, and it was clear he was declining in health, but he still invoked fear with his gaze. There was no doubt to any rumors anymore. Geralt was sure this man was capable of absolutely anything.

The Queen sat in a similar throne, next to them was their daughter, walking but flanked by guards. She didn’t take her eyes off Geralt as they prodded him down the plank. Her eyes were soft, betraying the rest of her face set in a hard mask of disapproval, and she made no effort to hide her ogling. Geralt stared right back, never one to back down from a challenge, until they were ushered past the royals into the crowd. The citizens were far more animated. Some threw food scraps at them, some jeered and gestured rudely, others spat, though they all blamed the 14 young men and women before them for the death of a prince before they were even born.

They marched through winding streets and up set after set of switchback stairs to reach the palace dungeons. The guards were having their fun with Geralt in the lead, shoving him around when they needed to change direction and tripping him when they passed a large crowd.

When they finally reached their cells they were shoved in, two to a cell, and the rope was cut. They had to hold their arms through the bars for the soldiers to cut the knotts. They took the rope with them when they left, leaving only bread and water on the bed and one torch lit hanging outside each cell. It was dreary and cold, and Geralt could hear the others crying.

Jaskier broke the loaf of bread in half and tossed it to Geralt, taking a long pull directly from the pitcher of water, “Eat. No arguments.”

__________

part 4 here

tag list: @hailhailsatan @so--many-fandoms

hmu if you want tagged 💕 I will cry tears of joy in my coffee

#the wticher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia fic #geraskier #geraskier greek au #greek au #greek mythology au #the witcher au #the witcher greek mythology au #geralt and the minotaur #geraskier greek mythology au #greek gay bois #this is a shit load of characterization and bonding and i defs am gonna pick up the pace pretty soon so just bear with me kids

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daretosnoop · 3 years ago

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Chapter 4: Bad Girlfriend

Chapter 3

The chapter some of y’all have been wanting since this game came out. I hope the story is interesting so far.

Henry told Renee their plans, then brought Nancy upstairs to the guest room. It was a simple room, if a little bland for colour. Henry supposed his uncle had some notion of social etiquette given that many people would probably not take to his interior design choices. Renee entered soon with a bundle of clothes.

“Not sure what would fit you dear or what your preference is so I brought some of my clothes, Dr. Bruno’s clothes, and some random pieces stored over time”.

Nancy thanked her and both Renee and Henry went downstairs.

“I’ll make a little night snack for your sleepover,” Renee said as she headed for the kitchen. Henry followed her.

“Don’t trouble yourself. And it’s not a sleepover. We don’t have a choice given the weather”.

“You could have always dropped her home”.

“I, I can’t do that on rainy nights”.

Renee paused in powdering the beignets. She looked at Henry and nodded.

“Could have asked me. I don’t mind”.

Henry shrugged and Renee just smiled and returned to her beignets. She placed two on two plates and poured out a glass of cold milk.

“In the morning, y’all can have them with coffee”.

She then wished Henry good night and went out the kitchen towards the stairs. On the landing, she suddenly felt a chill run across her back and turned to see Nancy peering over the model cemetery.

“I’ve seen it too,” she suddenly called out.

Nancy whirled around, startled by the voice.

“Seen who?”

“The skeleton man”.

Nancy’s face became serious as she headed towards Renee.

“What have you seen?”

“I don’t even want to talk about it. All I know is that I saw it, that thing. Soon after seeing it, strange sounds came from my room”

“What did you do?”

Renee looked up proudly. “I found a solution in my book. Used my powers in hoodoo to put up a spell,” Renee placed a hand around her little pouch necklace. “It worked too. Those sounds stopped”.

“Did the skeleton man stop? Was it just the one time you saw him or did you see him repeatedly? Do you think there is a connection between the sound and the man? Did you tell Dr. Bolet? What did he say? Did he believe you?”

“Goodness child,” Renee laughed though it did not reach her eyes. “You sure are inquisitive”.

Nancy shrugged.

“Well, I admire your tenacity child, just be careful. There are powers far beyond mere mortals. The best we can, and should, do is protect ourselves and not dare challenge the powers”.

Renee said nothing to Nancy’s perplexed face. There really was nothing to tell the girl. She would either play it safe, or learn the hard way. She told Nancy of the food she placed out and bid her goodnight.

Nancy was surprised to see Henry in the kitchen. He had started on one of the beignets but his attention was clearly on his phone.

“Bad news?” Nancy asked, reading his face.

Henry started, blinked at her while he processed her question, then hummed and took another bite of the beignet.

I wonder if it’s that Summer person?

She started on a beignet and thought over her case. She’d called Bess soon after changing her clothes. Half-asleep Bess barely registered everything Nancy told her but somehow understood that Nancy was not coming home tonight. Nancy didn’t know when Henry was going to sleep, but she hopped it was soon. He was still a suspect and nighttime was always optimal for snooping.

“Find everything okay?” Henry asked.

Mouth still stuffed with food, Nancy nodded.

“Put my clothes to dry so I can wear them tomorrow. I plan on calling professor Hotchkiss and then going from there”.

With a beignet half in his mouth, Henry looked at her, eyes wide.

“You mean, you intend on continuing?”

“Duh”.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to go. I’ll go and forever lament this unsolved case to my friends,” Nancy waved her hands about, exaggerating the tragedy Henry’s refusal would cause her.

Henry’s lips twitched.

“You’re stubborn”.

Nancy gave him a cheeky smile.

“Good friends are”.

They chatted amicably on Nancy’s previous cases until the beignets finished. Henry immediately took the dishes and washed them. He then nodded at Nancy before heading towards the study.

“How long do you stay up?” Nancy asked.

Henry shrugged. “Depends on the work”.

Darn. Hate those answers.

With nothing better to do, Nancy bid Henry good night and went to her room. She fiddled with the number she had for professor Hotchkiss and thought over the night’s events. Not able to think of anything new, she searched up hoodoo, the Bolets, and New Orleans on her phone. Something sinister was afoot in this house.

At around 10:45 p.m. Nancy heard footsteps climb up the stairs and a door open. She waited a while longer, and when she was sure Henry was not planning on leaving his room, she quietly opened her door and walked down the stairs with her torch. Thankfully, the stairs did not creak. Nancy opened the door to the study and crept towards the desk. Looking around quickly and finding no one, Nancy sat on the chair and grinned.

She meticulously searched through all of Henry’s papers, but could find nothing relevant. She then looked through the desk drawers but only found a keychain with an eyeball. Strange, but again, not relevant. Henry had left his computer on the desk and of course, it was locked. Nancy thought over any possible passwords. Bolet didn’t work. Henry’s name didn’t work. Don’t tell me. She typed out Summer and logged in. There was nothing relevant on Henry’s laptop though Nancy did see an email from Dr. Buford’s medical clinic. It was an invoice for a paid bill. Myocardial Infraction. Dr. Bolet’s cause of death.

Nancy looked through the rest of Henry’s emails but found nothing of relevance their either. Not even in the junk and deleted folders. She fell back onto the chair and sighed. Then her eyes caught the rubbish bin beneath the desk and she reached out for it. She read each memo, card, and invite but found nothing of interest. She then picked up an envelope. It was from Milo Research and Technology, and addressed to Bruno Bolet. There was an address but no number. She put the envelope aside and continued to dig. There were some pieces of paper in intelligible handwriting, but Nancy did catch the word skull repeated so she put them with the envelope.

Finding nothing else, Nancy stood up and carried her clues back up the stairs. As she climbed she happened to look up and felt her heart freeze. There, by the flower vase, she could almost swear she was seeing Renee’s eyes watching her. But that was ridiculous. Renee was not there. Nancy took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she went back to her room.

After breakfast, Nancy went back to her French quarter hotel and was greeted by a frantic Bess.

“Nancy! Where were you?”

“Bess, I called and told you that I would be staying the night at Henry’s place”.

“You know I can’t remember anything told to me when I’m half asleep!”

Bess sighed loudly before looking behind Nancy at the man who was standing awkwardly at the front door. Following her gaze, Nancy introduced Bess to Henry and soon Bess had ushered him in for tea. As the trio sat around the table, Nancy filled Bess in with what had happened to her and what her plans were. Bess’s face fell when she learned that her friend was, again, bailing on her to pursue a case. She knew Nancy meant well, and to be honest, helping Nancy with a case was more fun than a traditional vacation, but Nancy had just gotten back from Alberta from another case. It would have been nice to have some time in the warmth before she whisked off again.

“Will you help me Bess?”

Nancy’s words broke Bess out of her thoughts. She wasn’t paying attention.

“Uh, help you with what?”

“Finding out some information. Just background research. Nothing dangerous”.

“Nancy,”

“Please?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be on standby. The sooner you solve this, the sooner we can get back to our vacation”.

Bess turned to glare at Henry.

“You could have just told her no, you know”.

The man shrugged and Bess could tell from his face that he had tried, Nancy just didn’t listen. She never could catch hidden tones very well, but it was probably a good thing. She wouldn’t be a good detective if she was constantly hampered by emotional cues.

Nancy got up to pack her bags. Alone with Henry, Bess found herself not knowing what to say. The man was a complete stranger, even if he was dressed smartly, and even if he did carry himself with a certain grace. It was interesting to see that despite his outwardly appearance, Henry exhibited a lot of manners. He hardly made his presence known and it was only after Nancy left that Bess took a good look at Henry.

“So, how do you know Ned?”

“We’re classmates”.

Bess nodded and silence overfell both of them again.

“Do you like tea?” Bess asked.

“Yes. It’s nice”.

That’s it? Just nice? C’mon, give me more to work with! Henry was a walking enigma and it infuriated Bess.

“I’m sorry about Nancy. She can be,” Bess moved her hands to emphasize, “much”.

Henry snorted into his tea.

“But her intuition is always right, or close to it. Whatever it is your uncle’s hiding, she’ll figure it out. Don’t worry”.

“I’m not worried. I just don’t think there is anything worth finding out”.

“So you’re okay with letting possible treasure, a priceless artifact, go undetected?”

“Doesn’t really mean much to me?”

“What if it meant something to your family?”

“I’m the only living relative of my family, and since I know nothing about my family, the treasure or whatever uncle Bruno may be hiding might as well not exist”.

Bess didn’t know what to say to that, and they finished their tea in silence. Nancy came in and plopped in front of Bess.

“Bess. I need you to look into someone. His name is Gilbert Buford. Dr. Buford was Dr. Bolet’s heart doctor. Apparently they were also friends”.

“What do you want me to ask him?”

“Ask him what he knew about Dr. Bolet. If Dr. Bolet ever confided anything to anyone, his friend would probably know—right?”

“I suppose”.

Bess glanced towards Henry.

“Is it okay if I do this? Or am I breaking some law here?”

“Don’t think so. If you are, I guess you can just say that I’m asking you to do this”.

“Great!” Nancy beamed and all but dragged Henry outside.

Bess sighed and pulled out her phone to look up medical clinics, but stopped when she heard Nancy come back in. She wore a serious expression.

“Bess. I need you to do something else”.

Nancy handed her a piece of paper that said ‘Zeke’s’ on it.

“I need you to see if there is some store called Zeke. Then I need you to go in and ask if Henry Bolet or Renee Amande ever sold anything recently”.

Bess slowly lowered her phone.

“You, you suspect Henry and Renee?”

“You know the drill Bess, everyone’s a suspect”.

“But, for what?”

“For being the skeleton man. I’m following up on every lead I have. Couldn’t tell you earlier because,” Nancy nudged her head towards the door.

“How does this place relate to a skeleton man?”

“Don’t know yet, but I know it was burned recently. Renee mentioned she keeps the place spotless. She couldn’t possible have overlooked the fire place if it was burnt a while ago”.

“Alright”.

Nancy thanked Bess then headed out the door.

Henry drove them back to the Bolet manor and went towards his desk. Nancy pulled out her phone and dialed professor Hotchkiss. No one picked up, but Nancy was not surprised. Professor Hotchkiss was probably off doing research or some other wacky project. She left a message asking professor Hotchkiss to call back to discuss a book she recently wrote.

She had no other lead to follow and so went out to the gardens. Renee was not there and Nancy took her chance to snoop. There was a shovel on one wall and some other gardening tools hanging about. For the most part, it looked like a garden. Even the plants seemed common place. Finding nothing suspicious, Nancy turned to leave the garden and came face-to-face with Renee.

“Can I help you dear?”

“Oh, I was actually looking for you,” Nancy spoke placidly. She was a little startled by Renee’s sudden appearance, but quickly recovered when she saw the pouch necklace Renee always wore.

“I was going to ask you, what’s in that necklace”.

Renee closed her hand around the pouch and Nancy could have sworn she saw anger flash through her eyes.

“This is my connection to the forces of the universe. Their elemental powers course through me when I wear this”.

Nancy stared at her and Renee scoffed.

“Well, least you didn’t laugh. How else can I help you?”

“Well, what can you tell me about Dr. Bolet?”

“Recluse. Obsessive. Neither jolly nor morose, but there was always a soberness that clung to him. It’s as if he refused to let himself be happy. Not very picky either. So long as I left him alone and kept the house, he didn’t care about what I did in my free time”.

Renee gave a soft smile. “We had a great working relationship. It’s rare to have in the housekeeping business”.

“How did you come to work for Dr. Bolet?”

“Answered a paper advertisement,” Renee answered quickly.

“Did he ever talk about his family?”

“Very little”.

“What did he say?”

“That his parents died when he was in his thirties. He had a younger brother whom he adored. Loved his sister-in-law, and had no desire to get married”.

There was barely anything to work with, still, Nancy persisted.

“Dr. Bolet was alone his whole life? Even after his brother’s death”.

Renee pressed her lips into a thin line.

“From what I’ve come to understand, Dr. Bolet loved his brother and when he died, he essentially lost a part of himself. Whatever was left came out only through his eccentricities”.

There was nothing of use in anything Renee mentioned. She tried a different angle.

“Do you know how Dr. Bolet died?”

“Oh yes,” Renee’s eyes took on a far-away look. “I was. I was there when he died. I saw him fall, on the threshold”. Renee placed a hand on her shoulder and looked down. “I thought, maybe, he just stumbled. Maybe got knocked unconscious, but Dr. Buford was there and he said it was a heart attack”.

Nancy looked sharply at Renee.

“Dr. Buford was there on the night Dr. Bolet died?”

“Yes. I suppose he came to visit Dr. Bolet”.

“Does he regularly visit Dr. Bolet?”

“No. Usually Dr. Bolet visits, but I suppose given his age. It must have been easier for Dr. Buford to come. Or maybe he wanted something. Either way, he was there”.

“What was Dr. Bolet doing on the threshold?”

Renee scrunched her face and held a finger to her lips. She still did not look at Nancy.

“I don’t remember quite well, but I think he was reading something. A letter perhaps?”

Excitement rose through Nancy.

“Do you still have the letter? Can I see it?”

“Sorry dear. I don’t know where it’s gotten to”.

Renee gave Nancy a tight smile and pointed towards the plants. Nancy took her cue to leave Renee and head back into the manor. She went back to her room and searched up Gilbert Buford, New Orleans. There were three Gilbert Bufords, but only one had a medical clinic. Nancy dialed the number and waited for the receptionist. The receptionist told her that Dr. Buford was not working full-time anymore.

“He only comes in for urgent situations and requests”.

“Where can I find him outside of the clinic?”

“I’m not authorized to give you that information”.

Nancy was fed up of facing blockades that interrupted her investigation. It was as if the whole of New Orleans didn’t want the mystery that was Bruno Bolet to come apart. She decided to take a risk.

“I really need to talk to him,” she said, softening her voice to add grief. “You see, we had a mutual friend who recently died, and I-I just need to talk to him”.

“Need some consoling?” The nurse empathized.

“Yes! Exactly! I need, that”.

“Well, alright. I guess it’s okay given the circumstance. Dr. Buford generally spends his time in the French quarters. He lives nearby and frequents a Cajun truck stop at Rampart and Dumaine. Claims it’s the best gumbo New Orleans has. I’d contest him on that though. Nothing beats a fine gumbo than my own Bluefoot’s Gumbo”.

Rampart and Dumaine? Jackpot!

“Thank you so much”.

“No problem,” the receptionist replied. “And I hope you get the help you need for your friend”.

“Oh, yes. I will. Thanks. I feel better already.” Saying so, Nancy quickly hung up and called Bess.

“Bess, he’s in Rampart and Dumaine!”

“Who?” Bess asked, her voice laced with sleep.

“Gilbert Buford. I called his clinic. They said he spends his time nearby a Cajun food truck”.

“Hang on”. Bess muttered and Nancy could hear her wrestling out of the bed and walking around.

“I’m in the balcony now”.

“What do you see?”

“I see a food truck called ��Granny’s Cajun Cooking’”

“And?”

“And no one else. It’s pretty busy right now, but no one is sitting around the food truck”.

Nancy sighed. “Must be too early in the day”.

“Or hot, it’s the middle of the afternoon. But I’ll keep any eye out, okay?”

Another dead end. It seemed that for every inch of progress Nancy made, there was a foot of backlash.

“Hey Nancy,” Bess’s voice called urgently. “You won’t believe what’s in front of our hotel. It’s the name, ‘Zeke’. It’s a curio shop!”

“Bess, you gotta get right down there and ask those questions!”

“I’m on it,” Bess replied with determination and hung up.

Nancy wandered around the gardens, looking for a clue that would help her understand the spider lock. Neither Renee nor Henry understood the lock, nor did they know if Bruno kept a pet spider. Renee eventually mentioned that she’d often see Dr. Bolet standing in certain spots around the garden. Sometimes he looked up to the sky, and other times, he was peering down. At times, he’d even bend over and inspect the base of the fountain that rested in the centre of the garden.

Carefully, Nancy crept around the fountain. The rain had made the soil muddy so she could not walk within the base. Thankfully, she did not need to. There was a hole surrounded by overlapping wires nestled into the soil ground. Nancy pulled out her phone to confirm her suspicion. The wire web before her matched the lock image on her phone. They’re keys, she realized. Musical keys. Each wire twanged a musical note. Looking at the image on her phone, she realized that the dashes extending out of each wire varied in number. So each dash must corroborate to a number—an order perhaps? But what would it release? She assumed it must be another key given that she was trying to open another locked door. Peering down into the hole, she saw a bronze key and the legs of a giant tarantula. Nancy could face anything, had faced everything, even certain death. She’d grown quite resilient in nature— but spiders, spiders were the one thing she just could not understand. I’d better get this right.

Carefully she pulled each wire in the order the lock indicated, and listened carefully to the note it played. She heard the mechanical sound of a platform being raised, and saw that the spider had backed off because the key was sitting upon a stand that was now rising to greet her. She nabbed the key and stuffed it into her front pocket. She turned around and saw Henry.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked.

“Oh you know,” Nancy shrugged then grinned. “Just testing theories out”.

Henry’s eyebrows quirked. “Discover anything, scientist?”

Nancy laughed. “Maybe,” she coyly answered.

Henry nodded but when he saw Nancy was not going to offer any more information, he let it go.

“Just going to take walk”.

“I’ll join you,” Nancy spoke suddenly.

“You will?”

It was a sudden decision, but Nancy did want to learn more about Henry. He might know more about his family, and Nancy wanted to know more about this Summer person. She might also be connected to this mystery—though, probably, very weakly connected.

They walked into the cemetery, Henry being a gentleman and opening the gate for Nancy.

“Thanks, but don’t bother. I’m your friend”.

“So I shouldn’t be nice to friends?” Henry countered.

“No, I meant. No need to be formal. Chill out a bit”.

“Yes, I suppose I could learn a bit about chilling out”. He gestured around the cemetery. “Think this is a good place to learn how?”

“Can’t be more chill than dead, can you?” Nancy teased and Henry laughed.

When they got to the Bolet mausoleum Nancy could sense Henry’s tension. One pain for another, I guess.

“So,” she started. “Tell me about Summer”.

Henry’s eyes snapped towards her, and without needing to look back, Nancy admitted that she overheard his conversation.

“Overheard?” Henry asked and Nancy knew what he was really asking.

“Well, you were loud enough. What was I to do? Cover my ears?”

Henry just sighed but didn’t say anything. Nancy tried a different angle.

“Friends help each other”.

“Why do you keep insisting we’re friends?”

“Because we are”

“People don’t just become friends in a day or because someone says so”.

“Then how do they become friends?”

Henry shrugged. “I dunno. Hang out a lot. Talk a lot. Eventually they come to rely on each other and feel safe and wanted around each other. They enjoy each other’s company”.

“Is that what you have with Summer?” Nancy asked softly.

Henry stopped walking and looked down. Nancy waited. She thought Henry would refuse to answer, or tell her to stop walking with him, or even cry, but slowly, Henry lifted his head and stared right at her.

“No”.

“So Summer’s not your friend?”

“No. She’s my girlfriend”.

“Your girlfriend can’t be your friend? Little ironic. It’s in the name”.

“It’s,” Henry scratched his ear. “It’s complicated. I like her, and I think she likes me back, but she can be so unpredictable it drives me nuts”.

“How so?”

“I never know what’s going to make her happy. Like just recently I— “Henry stopped and hesitated. “I always have to buy her things”.

Nancy’s mind began to whir.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

Henry nodded. “I did but she always gets very mad, and I’d rather not deal with her anger. Besides,” Henry pressed down hard on his lips. “I’m afraid if I don’t give her what she wants she’ll,” he pressed down harder and his lips disappeared into a thin line. “I’m afraid she’ll dump me”.

“What’s wrong with being dumped?”

Henry looked at her incredulously. “I couldn’t take it. She’s the only girlfriend I’ve ever had, and probably ever will have”.

Nancy did not understand Henry’s argument. “So you’d rather be unhappy with someone, then happy but alone”.

“I’m not unhappy when I’m with Summer,” Henry snapped.

“You just said you don’t consider her your friend,” Nancy argued, “and that you’re only staying with her out of fear”.

“What’s it to you?” Henry argued.

Shoot. Her inquisitive side had gotten her involved in emotional affairs again. Whoever said detective work required cold calculated minds was a god-damn liar. Henry must of have noticed the change in the air and quickly apologized for his behaviour.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Look. I know I’m nosy. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. But I’m not that type of person. If something’s wrong, I usually try to figure it out, and seeing your behaviour, I feel you’re in the wrong relationship. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but if you don’t consider me as a friend, then consider this as advice from a stranger who’s sensing something’s wrong—you’re in a bad relationship. This Summer, she seems like someone who likes being provided for and taken care of”.

Henry crossed his arms against his chest. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if you’re okay with having such a relationship. But if you’re not, then what are you doing?” Nancy hesitated and carefully said her next words. “You’re going to make both of you unhappy, and eventually, one person is going to leave”.

“Oh, you’re a relationship detective now?” Henry spat.

“No,” Nancy said softly. She laced her fingers together in front of her. She could see the gates dividing the cemetery and garden. She walked ahead of Henry and opened the gate. Standing on the threshold, she looked back at Henry and smiled.

“I’m the bad girlfriend”.

#nancy drew #henry bolet #CRY #legend of the crystal skull

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ricksbowen · 5 years ago

Text

simply, utterly | pt. 4

IN WHICH: ricky makes your homecoming a whole lot better than you’d like to admit.

INSPIRATION: fair-weather friend — bruno major, prom queen — catie turner

A/N: i really suggest listening to fair-weather friend while reading this. i’m casting harrison osterfield as the harrison in my story because i love him, thanks

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7

“So that’s it?”

“Apparently,” Ricky groaned, hugging his pillow as he explained his situation to Big Red for what felt like the 5th time. He had explained everything, from the moment the both of you shared while singing to your words after both of you kissed. The redhead’s brows were furrowed in thought and his eyes were staring into blank space. He was thinking; that was never good. “Big Red?”

Big Red shushed him, murmuring, “I’m thinking.” A few more seconds of silence followed until the trance Big Red was in broke. “Yeah, I got nothing. You’re fucked, man.”

“I know!” Ricky stuffed his face into his pillow, letting out a muffled scream while Big Red patted his back. “Why do I like her?”

“That’s what I was thinking about. I thought you hated her, Ricky.”

“I thought so too!” Ricky yelled, his voice quieted by the pillow in his face. Big Red patted his back sympathetically, shaking his head to himself until an idea popped into his head. Immediately, he started hitting Ricky, a smile growing on his face while Ricky only winced at his hits.

“Hey— Red!” Ricky groaned, rubbing the area where Big Red hit him while Big Red ignored his complaints.

“Dude. Homecoming is coming up,” Big red exclaimed, eyes looking at Ricky expectedly. He expected a reaction to come out of him, a sudden realization at what Big Red was trying to imply, only to find nothing.

“Okay. So what?”

“So, you idiot,” Big Red drawled out, rolling his eyes at how oblivious Ricky could be. Did he really have to explain his genius plan? “You take her! Ask her out!” The encouraging grin on his face grew with each word he spoke.

“You’re aware that she wants nothing to do with me,” Ricky deadpanned, raising a brow at Big Red.

Big Red waved his worries away with his hand, blowing a small raspberry as he did. “Just ask her out! What do you have to lose?” Big Red asked, raising his eyebrows at Ricky as if he was challenging him to answer. Ricky already had an answer.

“My dignity.”

—

“Hey, Y/N.”

You turned to look over your locker, the cold look you had kept on throughout that day softening at the sight of Harrison, one of your classmates. You had him in your chemistry class in your sophomore year, when he nearly blew up your lab station because he added too much of one chemical. While Harrison began freaking out, you were practically crying from laughing— who would’ve thought that one of the jocks would react so badly?

“Sorry— I thought you were someone else,” you said apologetically, turning back to the things in your locker. Ever since the day you and Ricky made out, you had been avoiding him like the plague. While you usually went out of your way to mess up his hair or make fun of him, you found yourself making various turns in the halls just to try and avoid Ricky. You saw him try and reach you every time he saw you, yet you always got away.

You didn’t want to speak about feelings— especially when it came to Ricky. In a way, it terrified you to think of him in that way despite your want to think of him as anything other than an enemy. But you didn’t want to make things complicated; the deal was to return to your normal relationship after the musical. Nothing more, nothing less.

Life had been getting in your way too. Ej’s break up with Nini was unexpected, to say the least, and you found yourself sneaking into his room at night to comfort him and allow him to rant to you ( while you subtly called him stupid since you were the more honest sibling ). You had to be there for him.

You looked at Harrison from the corner of your eye, seeing the evident nerves that were coursing through his veins. Grabbing your things and slamming your locker shut, you looked at the boy up and down before speaking. “You’re nervous,” you stated blatantly, watching his eyes widen at your honesty. “What happened?”

“I wanted to ask you a question,” Harrison said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his ( cliche ) letterman jacket.

From across the hall, Big Red patted Ricky on the back and shook him gently. “All you gotta do is ask her to homecoming. It’s simple, alright?” Big Red clapped him on the shoulder, trying to get him hyped up and less nervous. “Nothing to lose other than your dignity, buddy. I believe in you.”

“I can’t go right now,” Ricky protested, turning his head to look at Big Red. “She’s talking to someone— Is that Harrison Dupont?”

“The dude that looked like he fell out of a bad high school movie? The blonde one?” Big Red squinted at you and Adrien, eyebrows raising when he saw you nod and smile brightly at the jock. “Since when did she know him? I swear he’s always reminded me of Harry Osborn,” Big Red muttered to himself, watching as you laughed at a joke ( that probably wasn’t funny— Ricky was funnier ) he told you. You then leaned up on your tip-toes and kissed the blonde on the cheek, a subtle smirk making its way onto your lips. “Oh, shit.”

Hopefully Ricky didn’t see that.

Ricky definitely did.

He felt his heart sink when he saw the action, any small chance he had with you going down to the negatives as his shoulders slumped. Of course, you were serious about what you said after you kissed— you had always been the no-bullshit type. But some childish part of Ricky thought that you were joking, that you realized that you wanted him in the same way he wanted you.

He had to stop watching so many rom-coms.

“It’s okay, man,” Big Red mumbled, patting Ricky’s shoulder while Ricky nodded his head.

“You know what? You’re right. It’s fine,” Ricky said, as if he was convincing himself that it was okay when it reality it wasn’t. How could he think that he even had any chance with you? “I’ll just bring you to homecoming. It is your first dance.” Ricky forced a grin, bumping Big Red gently and ignoring the protests he tried to utter.

You had been enemies from the start— he shouldn’t be feeling like this. Might as well take his mind off of you.

—

“You’re going with Gina? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Says the person who said that she’s going with Harrison Dupont,” Ej deadpanned, fixing his tie in the mirror. He stood next to where you sat, your makeup strewn all over your table as you tried to put your makeup on. “You know that he’s a total di—“

His words were interrupted by Ashlyn, who was supposed to help you with your makeup ( until she gave up ). “Isn’t he that one jock? The guy that’s kinda like Harry Osborn?” Ashlyn asked from your bed, not looking up from her phone as she tried to find your homecoming date on Instagram. It only took her a few minutes, and for his page was the first that popped up. “No way do you know him,” she stated, glancing at you with raised brows.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” you asked, turning to look between Ashlyn and Ej. Both of them gave you nods in response, making you groan and turn back to your mirror.

Your hair was held up with a few white clips, a simple hairstyle that fit your dress: a rose red, a-line, spaghetti strapped dress that went above your knees. Your make up was simple, yet pulled your whole look together with rose red lipstick. Frankly, you thought you looked hot ( and you did ).

“All we’re saying is that it’s a surprise. You can barely exist next to most of the guys on my team without telling them to ‘fuck off.’” Ej gave you a pointed look through the mirror, his face softening when the sudden realization that you were growing hitting him at that moment. He felt like such an older brother as he watched you get yourself ready; you grew up so fast.

“You’re not one to talk; you’re going with Gina!” Ashlyn said, giving Ej a look. “Since when did that happen?”

“Just— Outta nowhere,” Ej mumbled, avoiding Ashlyn’s eyes as he looked at himself in the mirror. He had to be hiding something - he was avoiding the questions you and Ashlyn were throwing at him. “Can you do my tie? It’s just,” Ej sighed, his tie coming loose in his hands as he tried to fix it. “Not working.”

You tutted him teasingly, standing up to fix his tie. “East High’s own senior class treasurer can’t even tie a tie,” you tsked, grinning at him and laughing when he rolled his eyes. “I’ll add that onto the list of things I know that you don’t.”

“Must be a short list.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, Ashlyn and Ej letting out their own laughs at your words. You walked to your window, picking up the purse you planned to bring ( you really had nothing in it other than chapstick and mints ). Your eyes trailed up to the view from your window, immediately landing on Ricky’s dark window. Maybe he wasn’t going to homecoming. You didn’t know whether you felt relieved or disappointed.

But it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to homecoming with Ricky.

—

Ricky saw you walk in.

You were behind Gina Porter and your brother, and while you were usually the epitome of bluntness and independence, you almost looked shy walking into homecoming. Your eyes were searching for someone — Harrison, most likely — but instead of finding the tall jock, your eyes met his.

Of course, he had to sit at a table close to the entrance.

You played it off, rose-colored lips tilting up into a smirk that Ricky didn’t respond to. He was gaping at you, not-so-subtly admiring you to the point where Big Red nudged him.

“You’re drooling,” Big Red muttered, a teasing tone behind his voice while Ricky quickly averted his eyes from you. He saw you walk away from the corner of his eye, the breath he didn’t know he was holding escaping him. Ricky put his head in his hands, trying not to let out a yell.

“She’s trying to kill me, I swear.”

The night went on. You sat alone, eyes on your phone as you tried to ignore the nagging feeling in your stomach.

“You too?” The familiar voice made you look up from your phone, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face at the sight of an obviously heartbroken Carlos. You knew how he was feeling.

“Yeah. Where’s Seb?” you asked, watching as Carlos shrugged and picked at his nails. You knew they were going to homecoming together ( you called it from the start ), but seeing Carlos without Seb was odd. Seb wouldn’t stand up Carlos, would he?

“Not sure. I texted and called him.” Carlos sighed, the hurt evident in his face. He leaned forward in his chair, shifting his attention onto you. “How about you, Y/N? I can’t really imagine anyone wanting to stand you up.”

“Harrison Dupont,” you grumbled, listening to Carlos suck in a breath. Now you know why people reacted that way when you told them your date. Your eyes looked back at the entrance for what seemed like the hundredth time, the little amount of hope you had that Harrison would show up replaced with hope for someone else. “Carlos,” you said, a smile on your face as you nodded at Seb, standing at the entrance.

Without a word, Carlos stood up from his spot, walking to Seb and exchanging a few heartfelt words with him. You saw a smile creep up onto Carlos’ face, and you sighed in relief when they made their way to the dance floor ( of course ).

You wanted what they had, but Harrison wasn’t here. You continued to watch the crowd, a chuckle rumbling in your chest at Ricky and Big Red’s slow dancing and a hint of a smile tugging at the side of your lips at the sight of Ej and Gina dancing. But as your eyes wandered, it led you to an image that you didn’t want to see.

Harrison Dupont kissing another girl, his arms wrapped around her as they danced to the music.

You wanted to throw up.

You listened to the song end, sending a quick text to Ej about walking home as you grabbed your purse. You stood up from your chair, ignoring the stupid lump forming in your throat as you made your way to the entrance as quickly as you could.

“See? I told you it wasn’t that bad. The next dance you need to go to—“

“Ricky.” Big Red interrupted him, nodding in your direction as you made your way outside. He had just finished slow dancing with Ricky, ignoring the stares from the others around them. Ricky had nearly made him fall over his own feet while they danced, and Big Red almost body-slammed him into 5 couples when he twirled him. They were a mess, but it was fun.

Ricky shook his head stubbornly, shoving off the want to go follow you as he looked at Big Red. “No. I promised you a good time—“

“And you gave me one. Check up on her, man, I’ll be fine.” Big Red smiled encouragingly, motioning with his hands towards the direction you had gone.

With a grin that screamed, ‘thank you,’ Ricky ran out, head turning to look for you.

He didn’t find you until he saw you on one of the courtyard benches. Hanging lights were wrapped around the few trees, yet no one was around to see just how pretty it was. But you were there, head in your hands as you tried to get the image of your date and another girl out of your mind. You were shaking, and it didn’t take much to know that you were crying.

You never cried.

You were either going to punch him or say a comment to dodge his questions.

You felt someone sit next to you, and you immediately wiped the tears from your cheeks as you looked at who was sitting next to you. There he was: Ricky Bowen, pretending it was a coincidence that he found you outside and sat next to you on the same bench.

You sniffed. “If you’re here to throw me a pity party,” you said, voice hoarse from your crying. “Just go back inside.” Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, more tears rolling down your face. You avoided looking at him, your eyes set on the concrete ground.

“I just thought you needed some company,” Ricky replied, listening to you scoff.

“I don’t need company. Especially from you,” you grumbled, wiping underneath your eyes and sniffing. You didn’t want him to see you like this; the oh-so-strong Caswell sibling, crying over a jock as if she had fallen out of a high school movie.

Ricky ignored the hurt your words brought him, simply choosing to nod his head. “You don’t have to talk to me,” he offered, looking up at the hanging lights. “We can just.. sit here. You can cry, I can just look at the lights.”

You raised your head from your hands, placing your chin on the palms of your hands as you let out heavy breaths. Silence followed Ricky’s words, the only sound being your sniffles and the faint bass from the dance.

“He was with someone else. He was kissing and dancing with her,” you spat, spite and hurt hidden deep within your words.

The sudden want to confess everything that had happened to him was too strong, your emotions controlling you as you stared blankly ahead of you. “I should’ve expected it,” you wiped the mascara from under your eyes. You chuckled humorlessly to yourself, shaking your head. “You probably think I’m stupid.”

“There’s nothing stupid in believing in someone,” Ricky murmured in response.

“I thought for sure that you’d come out here to make fun of me,” you murmured. “Especially since.. you know..” you trailed off, hoping that he knew that you were talking about the kiss the both of you shared.

“I don’t hate you as much as you think I do, Y/N,” Ricky said softly, his tone sincere as he looked at you. Your eyes were downcast, a useless way of avoiding his eyes like the plague. You felt guilty for pushing him out, for being too caught up in thinking about what you felt that you didn’t think about what you were doing to him. A small part of you wanted to go back to how they once were: arguing in classes and pissing each other off.

A huge part of you wanted to have your hands intertwined with his.

You looked at him with eyes glassy with tears, the faintest of smiles on your face. You had to have looked like a mess with your messy makeup and smudged mascara. But to Ricky, he had never seen you look so pretty.

“Do you want to dance?” Ricky asked, the idea leaving his mouth before he could catch it. He gauged your reaction, watching as you cocked a brow at him as if to silently ask, ‘are you serious?’ “It’s homecoming,” Ricky explained blatantly, shrugging his shoulders. “You deserve to have at least one dance.”

“What if someone sees us?” you asked hesitantly, watching Ricky stand up and take out his phone. He scrolled for a few seconds before choosing a song. ‘Fair-Weather Friend’ by Bruno Major began to play, and he offered his hand out to you.

“Then let them,” he said, and a smile lit up your face at his response. You took his hand, standing up and placing your arms around his neck.

You felt his hands hold your waist, his touch gentle as you both began to sway to the music. “I don’t know how to slow dance,” you confessed quietly, making sure you didn’t step on his toes as you both danced to the beat.

“Just follow my lead.” The chorus came around, and Ricky twirled you, your dress floating up at the move before settling back down. He pulled you flush to his chest, humming the song softly to you as you followed his movements.

Once the chorus came once again, a laugh left your lips as you tried to twirl him around. “Nice moves, Bowen,” you remarked, your comment lighthearted and making him laugh.

“I try.”

You both danced as if you had known each other for forever ( in a way, it was true ). Each small step and each small sway was performed as if you had been dancing with each other for years rather than playing a teasing game of cat and mouse.

You could tell the song was coming to an end. Your head was on his chest, your sadness gone and replaced with content. Quietly, and almost shyly, you mumbled, “Thank you for making this night so much better.”

Ricky could feel his heart pick up. He knew he was in too deep.

“Anytime, Y/N.”

—

TAGS: @softpeteparker, @jointherebellion215, @l-tt-e, @broken-from-fandoms, @uwupxterparker, @room-3o4, @eternaleviee, @hobistigma, @fangeekkk, @wcnderwoo, @myrandom-fandomlife, @multifangorl, @tomshufflepuff, @ggclarissa, @decaffeinated-fangirl, @religious-pizza-roll, @rororo06, @svelby-g, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo, @whoseblogsthis, @hxney-bunches-x

#ricky bowen headcannons #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen smut #ricky bowen hcs #ricky bowen imagines #ricky bowen #ricky bowen x reader #joshua bassett hcs #joshua bassett angst #joshua bassett imagines #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett #hsmtmts #high school musical: the musical: the series #big red #ej caswell #ashlyn caswell #gina porter

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marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

Text

the truth always was

[Read on Ao3]

Owen has watched his son suffer and hurt, and he wants nothing more than for him to heal and find happiness again. So when he notices a certain young Officer appearing more and more, he takes notice and makes an effort to get to know this Carlos Reyes.

Or, Tarlos from Owen's perspective

---

Tarlos Week Day 4: Tarlos and Owen + fun

Day 4 of @tarlosweek2020 and I’m not sure how much “fun” is in this (there’s some though!) but it is definitely Owen and Tarlos so I think that’s good for the prompt, right?

-----

Owen watched as his son disappeared from the bar on the arm of the young cop from earlier. He wasn’t naive - his son was 26 and no saint, and under normal circumstances, Owen wouldn’t even blink an eye.

But these were not normal circumstances by a long shot.

He could still see the image of his son unconscious, unmoving, not breathing on the floor of his apartment just a few short weeks ago. It was an image that would be forever ingrained in his mind; burned there by the panic and fear he had felt in that moment.

He would do whatever it took to make sure they never ended up there again. He still believed that his son had a good head on his shoulders, but he was in turmoil; still reeling from everything that had come before, from the changes it had caused. As much as he wanted to let him be, as much as TK would want him to let him try and fail on his own he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew that he couldn’t just leave it be - not when the risk was so high.

Even if that meant keeping a closer eye than usual on his son and his romantic escapades; even if it meant stepping in where he normally would not. He knew the idea wouldn’t go over well with TK, but the fear of losing his son for good was louder than TK’s discomfort.

At least, Owen reasoned grimly as he took another sip of his beer, if his son ended up hating him for this, he would be alive to do so.

------

There is something going on between his son and Officer Reyes, but he’s not quite sure what.

Though to be fair, he’s not too certain they know either.

They stand closer to each other than strictly necessary at calls and TK must be delusional if he thinks no one notices how much he brightens when he sees the young officer. He knows that TK keeps disappearing, coming and going at odd hours but he believes him when he says he doesn’t need to worry; that there are no substances involved. From what little he has seen of the young officer, he’s fairly certain he approves. He seems like someone solid; someone he can trust with his son’s happiness.

Owen still keeps an eye out, still watches for red flags. He wants to pull TK closer, to find him a protective bubble just to give his nerves a break. And he is ready and willing to step in as soon as the situation warrants it. But he loves his son more than anything and as much has he wants to shield him, he has come to accept that the only way for him to truly ever heal is to do it himself, despite how hard it is for Owen to watch him struggle.

That doesn’t change the concern he feels when TK lets himself into the house one night, fuming and swearing under his breath; opening and closing the drawers and doors in his bedroom with far too much force. Owen allows himself a quick check-in, just to make sure that there is nothing truly wrong. When he sees TK whole and unmarked, not willing to talk about it and very truly pissed off, he makes his exit - leaving his son to stew and work through whatever this is on his own.

When TK attempts to sneak in unnoticed just a few nights later and Owen - up in the pursuit of some water - catches sight of the blood and bruises gracing his skin, his heart plummets. He immediately closes the distance between them, eyes roving his son, searching for any sign of further injury or harm.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, voice taut with worry.

TK’s eyes flick away from him, his busted lip pulling into a straight line. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“TK…”

“I did something stupid, but I’m okay,” TK announced, looking up. Catching sight of the desperate fear in Owen’s eyes he adds, more gently, “not that stupid.”

Owen allowed himself to breathe for a moment before studying his son one more time. These were injuries caused by fists; injuries found after a fight. His heart rate quickened.

“What happened TK?”

Who did this to you? Was the unasked question.

“I got into a bar fight with some random guys. It’s fine, no charges - it was stupid, but it’s all good.”

“No...no charges? Tyler Kennedy Strand, were you arrested ?”

“But not charged?” TK offered nervously. Owen stared back at him. They stood in silence at the edge of the kitchen for several moments before Owen groaned and ran a weary hand down his face. “TK…”

“Dad, I know I did something unbelievably stupid…”

“You’ve got that part right.”

“...but I think that maybe it finally gave me the clarity I needed. I’m just...going through some stuff right now and....”

“And what? TK, I’m trying to help you, but this…” he paused and ran his eyes over the bruises. There was blood soaking the collar of his white t-shirt. “This is something I don’t know what to help with. I don’t know what’s going on and frankly, it’s scaring the hell out of me. What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” TK admitted softly, “I don’t think there is anything. I think I need to figure it out on my own.”

Owen sighed heavily. He had known that answer, but it went against every single fatherly instinct he had. But his son was an adult and he knew what he needed better than anyone. “Can you just try not to get arrested again anytime soon?”

TK gave him a small grin, “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

TK nodded and started to walk away, but Owen called him back.

“You know I am here though if you need anything, right?”

“I know Dad,” he answered softly. Then with another smile, he was gone and Owen was left alone in the kitchen.

He leaned against the counter and ran a weary hand down his face. He desperately hoped that stepping back was the right choice. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to TK. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t help but wonder how Officer Reyes fit into all of this. He had no idea, but he was determined to find out.

---------

He is still pondering the mystery of Carlos Reyes over a late-night cup of tea at the station when Captain Blake joins him. It had become something of an unspoken ritual after the first time. They drink their tea in silence until Owen decides he may as well ask the question that has been lingering in his mind.

“What do you know about Officer Reyes?”

“Carlos?” Michelle asked, looking up from her mug with a startled expression, “Quite a lot actually - why do you ask?”

“Just between us, I think something is going on between him and TK and I just...want to know if I need to be worried.”

“I can assure you that Carlos Reyes would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone.”

Owen raised an eyebrow, “You seem pretty certain of that.”

Michelle shrugged as she stirred her tea, “I am. He is one of my closest friends.”

Owen couldn’t even hide the surprise he felt at that even if he had wanted to, “I had no idea.”

Michelle nodded, “He was friends with my sister when they were growing up and after she went missing, he helped me out a lot. He still does. We’ve gotten really close over the past couple of years. I would trust Carlos Reyes with my life without hesitation, and I can say with complete certainty that you don’t have to worry about him with TK. He is a good person - one of the best I know.”

Owen gave her a smile and though their conversation veered in another direction, he ruminated over what she had said. It was still on his mind as they left the kitchen and headed to their respective bunks. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, wondering if it was truly possible that TK had found someone as good as Michelle said. He loved his son dearly, but past experience had shown that his taste in men was questionable at best. The thought that maybe he had found someone actually worthy of his time and affection thrilled Owen.

But even that feeling was wrapped in caution. Owen knew his son. After everything that had happened, he was gun shy; likely unwilling to fully give himself over to anyone. Owen understood that - he had every reason to be cautious. He just hoped that he didn’t miss out on a good thing because he was scared. He hoped if he had feelings for this man, that he didn’t push him away. He hoped that maybe, against all odds, his son might finally find the happiness and love he deserved.

As he rolled over in another attempt to sleep his last fleeting thought was that he hoped this Officer Reyes was up to the challenge.

----------

As the Texas winter faded into spring and the temperatures began to rise to what Owen considered early summer heat, he couldn’t help but notice that TK seemed happier. He seemed lighter; he smiled more. Owen could almost see the person he had once known before Alex, before the overdose. It made his heart swell and helped him sleep a little easier at night.

He had a feeling that a certain young officer had something to do with it and while he wasn’t about to thank him outright (though he longed too) he was making an effort to get to know the young man a little better - inconspicuously, of course.

He made it a point to speak with Officer Reyes whenever the opportunity presented itself, he listened to Michelle’s stories of their escapades keenly. He wanted to get to a better idea of who this person was. Michelle could (and had, on multiple occasions) spend an hour singing her friend’s praises and while he did trust her and her judgment, it was clear she was more than a little biased.

These little conversations pay off and more and more of the picture that is Carlos Reyes reveals itself to Owen. He is startled to realize that one day without him truly knowing it, he had come to like the young officer all on his own. He was polite and compassionate, professional and even-tempered. Owen had been startled the first time he heard him crack a wry joke as they were wrapping up at a call, but he had come to learn that Carlos Reyes had quite the sense of humor when he wasn’t wrapping himself in professionalism.

He was pretty certain that the young officer in question was a good part of what was making his son happier these days, and he could certainly see the appeal.

-----------

Owen had known nothing but pure terror since the moment he realized what had happened. The instant he connected the sound and the blood splatter to the image of his son collapsing onto the hallway floor; panic and fear had engulfed him and they hadn’t left. Even now in the relative calm of the storm, now that the immediate danger was behind them and all that was left was the waiting, he could still feel the fear pulsing through his veins.

But he had only ever seen his son this still one other time, and that was a time he had spent months trying to forget. To see it again after everything TK had been through, after all the work he had done to heal was just as heartbreaking as it was terrifying. He was facing the very real possibility of losing his son for good, and he couldn’t handle that. He was dreading the worst and knew that it would destroy him, should it come to pass. He squeezed the limp hand in his grasp again, praying for some response; some proof that his son was still with him.

None came.

He could feel the tears from earlier threatening to return, but the sound of hurried footsteps coming to a halt outside the door distracted him enough to push them off - for now.

He turned to see Carlos Reyes in the doorway. His chest was heaving as if he had run here and his red-rimmed eyes were filled with a look that was all too familiar to Owen - desperation and fear.

“Officer Reyes,” he said by way of greeting, “would you like some time with him?”

Carlos pulled his eyes from the bed before them where he had been studying for TK, looking for any sign of life, and turned his gaze to Owen. He swallowed before he choked out: “I don’t want to impose.”

Owen could almost feel his heart breaking all over again. He could feel how much this man cared for his son in the waver of his voice; he could see how much TK meant to him. He had had his suspicions but to have the confirmation now - when TK wasn’t here to receive the love that he so desperately deserved - was just another cruelty piled on. He pulled himself up from the chair he had been glued to for the past two hours and crossed to the young officer. He stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he spoke, “I think he would appreciate it. I know I would.”

He let his hand linger on the younger man’s shoulder as he held his gaze. There was so much he wanted to say that he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. I know , for starters; but thank you, most of all.

Carlos nodded and Owen had the feeling that he understood. He clapped his shoulder again and stepped out of the room, clearing the path to TK’s bedside. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Carlos closed the distance quickly, as he fell into the chair beside the bed. As he reached out a tender hand to caress TK’s face, as he used his other hand to wipe away the tears that had begun to slide down his own.

He allowed himself this pause, this momentary intrusion to see for himself how well Carlos loved his son. Despite it all, Owen allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

It looked like TK had finally found the love he had always wanted for him - now he just needed to wake up.

------------

As the batter made contact with the ball and sent it sailing into the outfield Carlos and Owen gave a cry of surprise in unison.

“I did not think he could hit like that,” Carlos noted with a shake of his head as the watched the player in question take a leisurely jog around the bases, allowing the rest of his team to cross home plate while the other team scrambled to find the ball in the outfield.

“I don’t think the other team knew either,” Owen responded with a chuckle, “but based on the first half of the game, who would’ve guessed?”

The two men were sitting in the Strand’s living room, watching the Houston Astro’s game while dinner cooked in the oven. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and they turned to see TK enter. He paused on the threshold, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of his father and his boyfriend sitting together on the couch.

“Hi guys,” he said skeptically as he set down his keys, “what are you up to?”

“Watching the game, waiting for you,” Owen responded as Carlos beamed at TK from beside him. “How was your meeting?”

“It was good,” he responded, walking around the couch to plop down next to Carlos, who immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Have you really just been watching baseball this entire time? I have been gone for a while.”

Owen shot Carlos an exasperated look, “TK has never shared my appreciation for anything athletic.”

TK rolled his eyes when Carlos gave him a curious look, “It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s more that I don’t really enjoy watching them and significant experience has shown me that I am not good at participating in organized sports.”

Owen chuckled appreciatively at that, “That’s true. I remember this one time you tried out for the basketball team and…”

“And this is me changing the subject,” TK cut across, speaking loudly to drown out Owen’s story. “How’s the game?”

Carlos shrugged as Owen, still chuckling, reached for his glass of iced tea, “Not bad. I mean, it’s no Yankee’s game…”

He stopped at the sound of Owen choking on his iced tea. Both TK and Carlos shot him concerned looks until he managed to stop coughing long enough to speak.

“You’re a Yankee’s fan Carlos?”

Carlos nodded, “I mean, the Astros are the closest thing we have to a home team here in Austin, but if I want to watch quality baseball then there is nothing better than the Yankees.”

There is silence for a moment before Owen turns to TK with a serious expression, “If you don’t marry this boy, I just might.”

Carlos instantly blushes and looks away, but TK just rolls his eyes and groans, “Really dad?”

Owen holds up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying.”

TK shakes his head but turns back to Carlos who is still trying to look anywhere but at them and allows a small smile to spread across his face. He reaches over to gently turn Carlos’s face to meet his and gives him a light kiss.

“Ignore him, you should know that by now,” he tells Carlos who chuckles sheepishly. TK turns back to Owen, giving Carlos a moment to gather himself again.

“Did I miss anything else exciting since you two have apparently been hanging out since I’ve been gone?”

Owen shrugged, “We made dinner, it’s cooking right now and...oh!” he exclaimed leaning forward with a grin as he recalls, “You are officially off the hook because it turns out your boyfriend here golfs and he and I have a tee time scheduled next week.”

TK turns back to Carlos with raised eyebrows, “What, I leave for a few hours and you two suddenly become best friends?”

Carlos nods solemnly, “It’s true. Your dad is becoming dangerously close to being my favorite Strand.”

“Well, I have a few ideas as to how I can change that.”

Owen sighs wearily, “And that is my cue to leave the room before I see something I don’t want to ever see.”

He gets up and gathers the glasses from the end table to bring with him into the kitchen. He turns back after he has deposited them in the sink and sees a sight that makes him pause. TK and Carlos are wrapped up in each other; talking closely. The smile on TK’s face shines even from the next room. As he watches Carlos places a light kiss on his son’s forehead and TK smile grows even more leaning down so he is tucked into the crook of Carlos's neck.

Owen turns away before they can notice him watching; before they can see the tears glimmering in his eyes. After everything, seeing his son this happy is enough to nearly make his heart burst. These past few weeks, in the aftermath of the shooting and the solar flare, somewhere amongst the tragedy and pain TK had found himself again. The person he saw each morning was no longer the stranger that had been born of betrayal and heartbreak. Now it was his son - the TK he had known and loved his entire life. He was happier than words could express to have his son back; to see him happy once again.

Owen had had a strong suspicion that Carlos Reyes had had a roll in that transformation, but to see them like this; to see that smile on his son’s face - well, Owen knew two things for sure.

One, he was grateful for Carlos Reyes.

Two, TK finally had the love Owen had always wanted for him; the love he had always deserved.

[Ao3]

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlosweek2020 #Owen Strand #tk strand #carlos reyes #my writing

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skzafterdusk · 4 years ago

Text

lee minho + "And July"

request from the Dean Title Track List

tags: vampire!reader, immortal!minho, daddy kink

The sun has already set; you can tell that much. If it hadn’t been for the darkening cracks in your closed blinds, you would have never noticed the way the room around you has grown dim. You could turn on the kitchen light, flicker on a lamp in the living room, but you were almost petrified in your spot on the kitchen counter; your right leg bent so your arm could rest on your knee, and your left leg dangling over the edge. Any bruises you probably had on your face hours ago have already healed, the pain long gone, as well.

Minho’s body is just in eyesight from where you’re sitting. Splayed out and unmoving, you pay close attention to this heart in his chest that remains still. You’d snapped his neck hours ago, but you count down the moments.

10 metaphorical heart beats…

9…

8…

7…

The silence should be deafening with not a single breath to inhale. But you quite enjoyed the feeling. Even after years of being undead yourself...to not need the oxygen in your lungs...but to prefer it. Odd.

5…

4…

You like to wonder if this time will be different. So many shows would like to have you believe that coming back to life is like crashing into your own body, the sudden way one wakes up after dreaming of falling to their demise. Minho never came back in that manner.

3...2...1…

It’s always the first beat of the heart. The first noise to fill the apartment in so many hours. Then it’s the rush of blood as they circulate through his veins. And he takes his first breath...his lungs fill with a mighty gulp of air...but he remains still. And it’s the softest sound, but you can almost make out the flutter of his lashes when he blinks his eyes open. And thus, Lee Minho has come back to life, yet again. And the fun shall continue.

“Good!” You exclaim, moving your stiff joints to hop down from the counter. On the impact of your bare feet hitting the floor, it’s met with the crunch of some snack-like food; chips, perhaps. But the crumbs under your feet are of no importance as you make your way through the doorway and into the living room. That is when the comparatively softer bed of broken chips turns into a gravely path of broken glass. Never the most comfortable, but you’ll live.

Minho is just beginning to stir, sitting up in his spot and going to nurse his head as if he suffered from a night of drinking heavily, to the point where his body screamed at him in agony from the inside out.

“You’re awake,” you say cheerfully, a too innocent grin on your lips.

The man huffs as he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You bitch.” Such a simple statement that holds the weight of his anger.

Anger, of course, that can only spell fun for you.

“You’ve called me much worse.” Your statement only holds objective truth.

He’s finally able to stand up, slow at first, but his energy seems to flow through him once his eyes land on you. Are you the predator or prey? It’s usually so hard to tell, really.

He stalks towards you in an instant, making sure to crowd your space and look down at you from under his nose. “Why the fuck did you kill me?”

You shrug with a scoff, electing to move past him and further into the living room. You’d left it in disarray after you guys had begun fighting. Drinking glasses hurled at walls, chairs and tables strewn about. You go to turn on that lamp, the only one still managing to stand after the hurricane that is you and Minho.

You’re not entirely sure what his excuse is, but immortality has left only two states of mind for you: insufferable boredom or rollercoasters of emotions. Clearly, one of them sounds more entertaining, yes?

The warm light of the lamp illuminates the chaos around you. Your voice, as you answer, doesn’t necessarily fit the current state.

“You were getting annoying. You probably would have tried to stab me if I hadn’t gotten to you first.”

Unfortunately for Minho, though, is that in some places, stabbing is quite...exhilarating.

The immortal other seems to be at a loss for words, since he decides to go to the kitchen rather than come up with a response to your excuse.

“All the time I was out and you couldn’t bother to clean this place up?” grumbles Minho, searching through a cabinet before finding the prize, a bottle of whiskey.

You turned your nose up at the sight of the bottle. You hated the taste of whiskey, and you hated even more the way Minho’s blood tastes after he had his fill. It was a sure way to make sure you didn’t feed on him, which must be the payback for...well...yknow.

“I didn’t make the mess by myself. We clean it together if you’re so worried about it.”

He doesn’t even bother getting a glass (possibly he wouldn’t be able to find one), just tears the cap away and starts taking swigs.

“Only thing I’m worried about is how I’m gonna get you back for snapping my neck.”

You roll your eyes as you lean against the wall adjacent to the kitchen doorway. He’d turned on the dim fluorescent light. The scar on his lip and cheek are still there because his bruises don’t heal quickly like yours. No matter for you. You’ve always preferred the look of him a little beaten up.

“Think this through, babe,” you start. “If you try anything, you’ll be stuck with this messy place until I can wake up.”

He makes sure to take a longer drink before slamming the bottle on the counter. Again, as he stalks towards you, he almost looks like the predator, like he’s capable of doing any real harm to you. He’d get pleasure out of it, regardless.

His grip is firm when he grabs your face, fingers digging into your cheeks until they plump up and pucker your lips.

He spends a long while just examining your face, eyes flitting to your lips, searchin your eyes, observing and appreciating the slope of your nose. What he sees makes him smile; it’s a sadistic premonition for the near future, the dark behind his white teeth.

“How about I whip out the cuffs? Know how much you hate being tied down.” His breath already smells like the cursed wood barrel that stored his whiskey, but you make sure to keep your face cool, so as not to show him how he’s already getting under your skin.

“Please, you love it when I scratch you up. No need to torture yourself, as well, daddy.”

His smile drops immediately at the pet name, eyes of fire suddenly bursting with fury. “Told you never to call me that.”

You shrug. “Not my fault you can’t handle your own kinks.” He snaps your head back until it meets the wall. The angle is awkward enough for it to not cause much impact, unfortunately. “Aw,” you coo. “Did I make daddy angry?”

His hand goes down to close around your neck, just under your jaw. The air you’d been breathing cuts off immediately. He already knows it doesn’t make much difference to you, but the pleasure still starts to travel south, waking your core to the possibility of what Minho might do to you in his fit of rage.

“You’re so lucky you’re already dead. How would you and your filfthy mouth survive otherwise?”

Your time as a human started fading by the end of your second decade as a vampire. It wasn’t much of a life, and Minho had known exactly why. A survivalist like yourself knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut. But being at the top of the food chain...well…

“And you’re lucky you found me.” You bring a hand to rest against the hand fisted around your neck. You can feel the pulse of the veins in that hand. Maybe he didn’t drink enough to make his blood taste so strongly of the alcohol. Maybe you’ll be able to bypass it. “You know how boring your immortal life would be if I hadn’t come along?”

He laughs loudly, but no humour resides in its hearty sound. His jaw is clenched, grasp growing stronger around your neck. Cutting off circulation to veins that need not produce new or fresh blood. You’d say his efforts were all for naught, but then that wouldn’t take into consideration the way liquid fire seemed to drip from your pores in anticipation.

“Do you think I enjoy being killed?”

“Don’t make it sound like I do it that often, daddy, be reasonable.”

If you were a human in this moment, everything would have happened like a blur in front of your eyes; the way Minho dragged you from the wall, throwing your body to the floor -you probably wouldn’t have noticed the shards of glass that broke through your clothes and cut through your back-, how he suddenly was on top of you, taking one of the bigger shards and pressing the jagged edge to your throat. One wrong move as a human, and you would have been dead.

But you’re not, and the thrill that comes is not of terror, but of excitement. See? Had you been wrong?

You can feel his semi-hard length against your stomach. It makes a smarmy grin grace your lips, challenging eyes looking at his. “Fucking knew it. Daddy gets so hard-”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

With a nod, you answer matter-of-factly. “Yeah, when you’re dead. Then I don’t have anyone to play with.”

The glass must have cut Minho’s hand, for soon the sweet smell of iron fills your nostrils, and the crimson drips to the point of the glass that meets your skin. Automatically, your fangs elongate from your gums, and your mouth begins to salivate.

“Let’s stop fucking around,” you suggest, voice a mere hiss. “And let’s play some games.”

Minho doesn’t see the world as you do, doesn’t get the advantage of the same reaction time. That’s why he isn’t able to stop you before you can rip the glass from his hand and sink your teeth into the heel of his palm. It’s not the best place to bite from, but the skin there is always easiest to puncture, and the blood likes to flow freely there.

The first mouthful of blood is always bliss, so satisfying like jigsaw pieces slotting into place. It’s so euphoric, you remember you’d have tears in your eyes your first few feeds. Immortals like Minho are rare, but they’re the best source to feed from. His blood doesn’t taste any better, but he’ll be around way longer than any human can.

He grinds his hips down, looking for friction, pleasure. You pull away, reveling in the blood that slides down your throat, before sitting up, your faces breadths apart.

“Looks like daddy wants to play.”

“(Y/N)...” he only calls your name like a warning, seemingly somewhere between anger and pleasure. He still wants to have an upperhand.

Maybe tonight you’ll let him. As an apology, of course, for killing him.

#skz #stray kids #lee minho #lee know #dean title track series #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids headcanons #stray kids smut

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gentlemanoftimetravel · 5 years ago

Text

Mos Miraculous Prompt #4

The Liar Duo 1

Beginning Previous Next

It was a day like every other. Marinette walked to school alone. Since Lila joined her class more frequently her friendships faded slowly away. Luckily for her, her next new classmate did instantly disliked the Italian girl and sided with Marinette.

She smiled. Despite the loss of her so-called friends, she found in Félix a more reliable source and a dearest friend. Screw everyone else, she won’t let them take away her happiness. Again. Thanks to Félix she found other friends in different classes, better friends even.

As she approached the stairs of her school she instantly knew something was up. The entrance buzzed with excitement and chatter. People wispers to each other and pointed toward a spot outside of her view. She took a few steps upward and was greeted by Félix.

“Hey Netta! Do you know what’s going on? Cloude told me there would be a new student, but that could barely be the reason for all of this.” He gestured around.

“I don’t know Fé.” She shrugged. “Honestly? I didn’t even know there would be someone new.”

“Then let’s find out!” He looped his arm around hers and they walked together inside.

Inside the schoolyard at least half of the students circled around a girl their age. Within hearing range Marinette could finally understand some of that chatter.

“Dude! I can’t believe it! You’re our beloved real everyday Ladybug!” chimed a voice that sounded suspicious like Nino.

“Woah. You’re even prettier as a civilian.” Definitely Rose.

“Awesome.” mumbled Juleka.

“I will challenge ...” “No, I will ...” same competition as always from Alix and Kim.

“Girl! I can’t believe it! Thank you to introducing me to your best friend Ladybug. Oh thank you Lila! You’re the best! Really!” She saw Alya sling an arm around Lila’s shoulder. Then she turned to the new girl. “Hey Leyla, can I get an interview with you? The Ladyblog is, thanks to your best friend Lila, already a sensation. But an interview with the real deal, that would be just awesome! Just imagine how popular my bl.. I mean how much more popular you and Lila will get. Lunch’s definitely on me!”

Marinette blinked rapidly. What the hell did she just hear? That can’t be true, she must be in one of her nightmares. Sadly, as Félix nudges her side, she realised that that was, in fact, very real. She grasped his hand and dragged him closer to the center of the crowd. She definitely need to get a look at that so-called Ladybug.

Halfway through she stopped like she hit a wall. The girl, in between Lila and Alya, looked almost exactly like her. Almost. Her hair was dark blue with hints of black and her eyes a darker blue with hints of purple, just like a plum. And she was missing the freckles that scattered across Marinette’s nose and cheeks. Her hair, longer than Marinette’s, were styled in similar Pigtails but not exactly the same, they’re not under but slightly behind her ears and instead of red ribbons she wore black ones. Marinette’s gaze trailed down. That Leyla girl wore a neck holder dress, from neck to waist in red which faded to black at her hips. Black dots above, red ones beneath. And there are the polka dotted flats. Her eyes trailed up again and searched for earrings. Polka dotted earrings. Seriously? Did neither of them hear of camouflage mode? How could neither of them see that she was not the real Ladybug?

“Marinette? Hey, Earth to Marinette!” Felix waved his hand in front of her face.

Marinette snapped out of her daze. “Félix, she’s a liar, just like Lila. I can’t believe neither of them notice that there is something fishy about this all!”

“I know dear. You’re the real hero. My hero.” With that Félix bend down and placed a kiss on her cheek. “But now come on, let us go to our classroom. Schools about to start.”

The hole day felt like tourture. Unfortunately Leyla was the new student in her class. Her classmates can’t stop brag about 'Ladybug', even Ms. Bustier thanked her for saving her and her students. Lila and Leyla, whose bathing in the attention, spinning one new story over another. Félix couldn’t take it any longer. He raised a hand.

“Ms Bustier? Can Marinette and I go into the Library to study? We need to finish our Science Projekt.”

“Sure, sure. Do whatever you want. Leyla tell me again about that one time you and Lila saved Jagged Stones kitten. That was so heroic from you!”

Félix rasend an eyebrow at that answer and looked at Marinette. He wispernd: “Is she serious? She didn’t even answer properly! We can do whatever we want, we could even leave school now! Remind me why I haven’t switched classes jet.”

“Because you love me and you would never leave me behind in a class full of morons. By the way, I love you too Fé!” She gave him a quick kiss and smiled at him. “Now let’s go!”

As the two of them stand up, ready to leave class Chloé raised her hand. “Ms Bustier, can I please go with them?”

“Sure Chloé.” Ms Bustier waved her hand and was already again deep in the story of the two Liars.

Marinette and Félix both raised her eyebrows but Chloé simply shrugged and pointed with her head towards the door. The trio walked out and closed the classroom door.

“Spill Chloé, why would you want to come with us?” Félix asked.

“Because I knew, that you’re the only other ones of that bunch of morons are who knew that Lila and Leyla are liars. Even Sabrina ditched me and called me jealous because Lila is Ladybugs best friend and not me. That’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous! Me and jealous, pah!”

Marinette looked at Félix and they communicated through their looks. As Félix nodded in defeat, Marinette turned to Chloé. “Do you want to hang out with us? We got permission to 'do whatever we want' from our teacher.”

Chloés face lit up and an enormous smile spread across it. “Yes! I would love to! How about Lunch? There’s this new restaurant that I wanted to go to with Sabrina, but now that she’s not a friend anymore, I will go with my new friends! Come on friends, I call the Limo!” With that said, Chloé walked with confidence ahead of the pair.

Marinette’s jaw dropped somewhere during that speech. With disbelieve in her eyes she turned to Félix and saw a smirk on his face. “She’s still the same old Chloé! If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears I would never believed that, I thought she chanced due to Adrien’s pushiness.”

Félix walked after Chloé and Marinette suddenly stood alone. What just happened? She only wanted to be nice to Chloé and expected a harsh answer, but she never would have guessed this outcome. She shook her head and followed them. That could be interesting.

~~~

Just as the three of them vanished in Chloé's Limo, Adrien's car pulled over. He’s late again due to a photo shoot. He rushed out and flight the stairs into the building. Wouldn’t he be in a rush and actually looked back, he would have seen his three classmates together and would have queationed that. But he didn’t and maybe, just maybe, that sealed his fate.

He stopped before his classroom to catch his breath. He needed to talk to Marinette and Félix about Lila. The two really need to stop try to out Lila, nothing good will come from this.

Only now he realised that his classroom buzzed with chatter and squeales. That’s odd. He opened the door and saw a new student flanked from Lila and Alya in the middle of the room. The chatter died down and his classmates all stared at him. Lila’s the thirst one to speak again.

“Hello Adrien. May I introduce you to my best friend Leyla? She just joined our class today. Oh and by the way, she’s Ladybug!”

Adrien’s eyes widened with realisation and instantly his eyes found Leyla's. Sadly he didn’t seem to notice the little victory smirk on Lila’s face. He scanned her up and down, her hair and eyes are slightly different and she’s a little taller than his Lady, but his hair and eyes changed during his transformation, so he guessed it happened to her too.

He made a curtesy and took Leyla’s Hand in his and placed a kiss on her knuggels. “Hello beautiful, I’m Adrien Agreste. Nice to meet you!”

Leyla gasped and chuckled. “Hello Adrien. I’m Leyla Bugiardo. Nice to meet you too.”

“Even your Name sounds beautiful and fit your profession so well Ladybug! Bug could be your nickname, if you like?” Adrien felt a lovesick grin appear on his face. His mind slipped one little detail, Ladybug would never reveal her identity. But why should he remember, he finally found his Lady!

Plagg squirmed in his shirt pocket. Not so happy about that progress.

Lila’s smirk widened. Jackpot! Adrien’s now head over heals for Leyla and now he will gladly help her get Félix. Two flies with one swatter.

Alya’s a little torn apart, she knew that Marinette loved Adrien and that that development would break her heart, but on the other side she deserved what comes for her after she’s been so mean to Lila. That Marinette’s already over Adrien and happily dating Félix, never crossed her mind. Why indeed, she hadn’t talked to her supposed Bestie in months.

The rest of the class looked happy at that development. Why not? Everyone knew that Adrien loves Ladybug and Leyla seemed so nice and a perfect match for him.

What could go wrong there?

——————

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6] [Ch. 7]

Originally I wanted to write more into this chapter. But I just found that Cliffhanger a good opportunity to end that chapter. What could go wrong?

I suck at coming up with Surnames, so Bugiardo is Italian for liar. You’re welcome. Did you get that pun with her names profession?

Hey @miraculous-of-salt, thank you for that prompt. I was in a writers block with my Cinderella AU and had no idea what to write. But now I have fun writing this and I’m sure my other fic will continue soon.

#mos prompts #miraculous prompts #miraculous ladybug #ml prompts #salty prompts #marinette dupain cheng #felix culpa #chloe burgeois #the liar duo

370 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 5 years ago

Note

Draft #4 and #41? Are they too different to combine? Maybe a 5+1 fic.... 5 times Michael explores his queerness and 1 time he and Alex go all out to a queer club (in ABQ or LV or LA)? 😉😃😘

freedom has no price

here it be! I’m super proud of this (with the exception of the last part but we can’t all be winners) and a special thanks to @draculaspetbee for helping me out with the 4th part! hope you enjoy!

ao3

.1.

Wind combed through Alex’s hair, but it only slightly made his bottle of nail polish wobble in its place in the bed of Michael’s truck. The two had been laying there for hours in the presence of each other. Regardless of how hot New Mexico summers could get, the desert was the best place for them to be. No one could spot them out there. The last thing they needed was someone telling Alex’s dad that they were still seeing each other, even when they knew he’d be leaving for God knows where in less than a month specifically so he wouldn’t be around Michael.

But Alex enjoyed being around Michael even though he was risking some dangerous consequences. Even if being around Michael consisted of watching him read a tattered up textbook he borrowed from the library on quantum mechanics. Alex was growing to love that stupid book though. Every 10 minutes or so, he would sit up dramatically and announce something Alex hardly understood, excitement radiating off his body like a teenage girl who’d just gotten a text from her crush. Alex then got to watch him collapse into his sleeping bags and read some more with big, engaged eyes. Michael didn’t seem to mind the fact that he couldn’t move his left hand whenever he had Alex and a book in proximity. It gave Alex a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“Y’know, Alex,” Michael suddenly said, taking Alex’s eyes away from his nails. They were dry for the most part since he’d only been touching them up. “I think you’re the only guy in the world who can pull makeup off that well.” Alex cracked a smile, gently using his socked foot to nudge his thigh.

“That’s just not true,” he laughed. Michael pursed his lips, resting his head on the book as he stared up at Alex.

“Okay, maybe not, but you definitely pull it off the best,” Michael decided. Alex shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the boy he felt ungodly blessed for knowing. Michael made him feel like he was safe and wanted and Alex was drunk on it every time he looked his way.

“I don’t know, I think you’d look sexy in makeup.” Michael’s cheeks flared up a bright red and he turned his nose towards the book, trying to hide the sheepishly smile.

“Shut up,” he whispered. Alex was sure his heart skipped a beat and he was overcome with the urge to make sure that smile didn’t go anywhere. He leaned closer, placing his hand on the back of Michael’s thigh.

“Nah, seriously. I mean, you’re already sexy as hell, but… some eyeliner? Mascara? Maybe even paint your nails? Fuck, Guerin, you’d be…” Alex tried to find the right word to make him squirm as he cautiously inched his hand further up. Michael was chewing on his lip, staring at Alex with daring eyes.

Michael was always unpredictable. Sometimes he seemed to be the nerdiest and most innocent boy in the world. He’d blush, he’d giggle at neck kisses, he’d occasionally prefer to ramble about physics in lieu of making out if not at the same time. However, other times, he’d basically be possessed by a trained seducer. He’d smirk and flash the most challenging eyes in the world, he’d tease in a way that made Alex forget his own name, he’d lure a side of him out he didn’t know existed. He dreaded the idea of leaving it all behind.

“You know, you can… you can do my makeup whenever you want,” Michael said. Alex moved his hand to the small of Michael’s back.

“Well, I have a few things in my bag if you’re tired of psychics,” Alex suggested. Michael sat up.

“Okay,” he said, letting his physics book fall to the wayside.

Alex was a little shocked that he was actually willing to let him put makeup on him, but he sorted through his bag anyway. The idea of making his manly, psychics-loving mechanic boyfriend all pretty with eye shadow and lipstick had him feeling giddy. He never thought Michael would let him.

After screwing the top back on his nail polish, he scooted closer to Michael with his makeup bag in his lap. It wasn’t a big collection and he definitely planned to have more one day, but this would do for now. Michael grabbed his knees and pulled him basically into his lap, smiling as Alex made himself comfortable.

“First of all, we need to get this out of the way,” Alex said, using his fingers to try and push Michael’s curls away from his face. However, it didn’t work very well as they just bounced right back into place. So, he fished in his bag and pulled out a bobby pin, securing the thick curls out of his face as best he could. “You’re so cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, accept that I’m right and close those pretty eyes,” Alex instructed. Michael licked his bottom lip before listening. Alex dried it with his thumb which earned a content sigh from his boyfriend.

They fell silent as Alex pulled out the small eye shadow palette Maria had gotten him for his birthday. He used his middle finger to put the gold color on his eyelids. Michael was a calm participant, hardly flinching even when Alex lined his eyes with black eyeliner.

“The first time I put on makeup, I flinched like fifty times,” Alex commented.

“I was Isobel’s test dummy the summer before freshman year. Those were never good looks,” Michael said. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Well, I’m doing my best to make you look decent,” he insisted.

“I trust your skills more than I trust 14-year-old Isobel’s,” Michael admitted. Alex just hummed in response and chose not to focus on that compliment, pulling out his mascara.

“Blink for me,” Alex instructed softly. Michael did as he said until his eyelashes were evenly coated. He couldn’t help but smile at his work. He was right, add a little something and he would look fucking gorgeous. He couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, trying to follow when he pulled away. Alex held him in place.

“One more thing, open your mouth.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Alex rolled his eyes and searched for his gold-colored lipstick that he admittedly spent his first paycheck on. It was so pretty that he just couldn’t help himself even though he knew he’d never have an excuse to use it. Now felt like the perfect excuse.

Alex held Michael’s jaw and carefully coated Michael’s bottom lip with it.

“Now rub your lips together like this,” Alex said, showing him what he meant and watching him messily copy. Alex spent a few seconds touching it up and then leaned back, taking in his full face. “That’s a really good color on you.”

“Thank you,” Michael answered even though he didn’t even know what it was. Alex sort of wished he knew more about makeup if only to do his face even more justice.

“Wanna see?”

“Yeah.”

Alex pulled out a compact mirror and gave it to him, watching him open it to look at himself. Michael stared at himself and blinked a few times as if he didn’t know how to react.

“Do you like it?” Alex asked softly.

“Yeah,” Michael answered.

He kept sneaking peeks at his reflection for the rest of the evening. Alex didn’t say anything.

.2.

“I think you would look good in a dress.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.”

Cassie Anderson had met Michael Guerin the way she met most boys that were too pretty to make sense: at a bar that was so run down that he seemed to glow in comparison. She’d seen him shooting pool and had bought him a drink. She didn’t realize that would lead to her spending seven nights in a row with him in her bed, trying anything she asked with the utmost respect.

It was strange to have a twenty-year-old boy be simultaneously really good in bed, really gorgeous, and respectful as hell. It made her much more comfortable asking for things than she usually was with men she’d only known for a week. She liked that.

“Why not, have you ever worn a dress?” she asked, rolling onto her stomach to look at him. He was still laid out on the bed with limbs splayed in every direction, face entirely blissed out. As masculine as he was, he took a strap like a champ.

“No,” he said, tilting his head in her direction with that sweet little smile he wore whenever he was willing to entertain whatever she wanted, “But I’m not really built to fit in one.”

“I bet I could find one in my closet that would fit you,” Cassie suggested. He blinked slowly and then started to turn his body toward her.

��Oh yeah?” he said. She smiled at him, wide and confident. She reached over and placed her hand on his slightly hairy stomach, rubbing just enough to get that content little sigh from him.

“I know you like being macho, but you’re pretty too,” she said. Michael rubbed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll entertain your vision,” Michael said, “On one condition.”

“What?” Cassie asked, already smiling as she sat up.

“It stays between me and you. No making fun of me to your next boy toy, alright?” he said, voice playful as he sat up.

“Of course,” she agreed easily. He grinned and leaned in for a kiss that she accepted. In her 26 years of living, she’d never met a man so down for whatever. She would be sad to see him go whenever this eventually had to end. However, she liked the idea that he’d stay a fun memory.

Cassie climbed out of bed and headed to her closet, searching for something that had some type of lace-up to cinch to his waist. She was a little bit bigger than he was and a little bit taller, so that felt like a necessity. She found one that was floral against black and a string lacing up the back. Perfect.

She brought it to him as he laid all posed on her bed. She rolled her eyes before grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet, relishing in his light-hearted laughter. He was so cute it was hard to manage sometimes. How the hell had she gotten him to come back so many nights in a row, again?

“Raise your arms,” she instructed. Michael smirked.

“You gonna dress me up, Mama?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she laughed. He obeyed though that shit-eating grin never left his face, letting her pull the dress over his head. It was a little tight over his broad shoulders, but not so tight he couldn’t lift his arms so it felt like a win. “Turn around.”

Cassie tightened it to his waist, creating a faux hour-glass figure that his shitty jeans could never. When she spun him back around to face her, she took a step back to admire him. As expected, he was fucking gorgeous.

“You look hot,” she said. He smiled helplessly. “No, seriously, you’re so pretty.”

“I’m not.”

“Look, come see,” she urged, pulling him towards the body length mirror. She continued to admire him and felt a familiar heat pool in her stomach as she watched him admire himself. He twisted a bit in the mirror, a different shade of confidence on his face. Suddenly it wasn’t just confidence about his behavior, but about how he looked. “See, you’re gorgeous.”

“Maybe,” Michael agreed, biting on his bottom lip. She grabbed his hips gently and he leaned into her. “Okay, so maybe I’m pretty.”

Cassie laughed and moved her hand to tilt his chin for a kiss. He folded into it, turning around to press himself into her and deepen the kiss. She smiled through it, her hands wandering and pushing up the skirt of the dress to feel the skin of his thigh.

“You’re so pretty,” she breathed.

“I feel pretty,” he agreed.

If they played dress-up for a few more nights before going back to being strangers, no one needed to know.

.3.

“Your skin is smooth.”

“Yeah because I shave and use moisturizer, take the lesson.”

Benny Giuliani had been pretty entranced with Michael Guerin the moment he saw him. He may or may not have gone to get his car fixed for dumb things five times before ever asking if he might be interested. He found it hard to guess those kinds of things and, eventually, Michael had to do the actual asking. Benny had simply sat there fumbling over ‘well, you see, is there any way you might be, like, I don’t know’. He accepted the teasing Michael gave him for it with ease.

“I didn’t know guys could shave,” Michael breathed, hands still roaming over his arms and his chest as he kissed his neck. Benny tried not to get too distracted by it, but it was admittedly difficult. He liked him so much.

“I used to be a bodybuilder,” Benny told him, “It was sort of a requirement. I like how it feels, though, so I kept it up.”

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, biting gently on his shoulder and soothing it with a wet kiss. Why had he waited so long to come out? He could’ve had cute boys kissing on him way earlier. How had he gone 30 years without men and then three more years without this one in particular? “I’ve thought about it.”

“I-I could teach you,” Benny offered, gulping softly as Michael pressed hard into back and kissed his neck. God, how did anyone focus?

“That sounds like the least sexy thing you could teach me,” he said in a low voice, pushing into his back harder. Benny laughed, catching him before he basically toppled them both off the bed. He pulled Michael around him to where he was sitting on his lap. He instantly went in for a kiss.

“Does everything I teach you need to be sexy?” Benny asked against his lips. Michael hummed and rubbed Benny’s bearded cheek, grinding his hips down just enough to be distracting. “I can teach you how to shave, one gay guy to another.”

Michael broke the kiss and leaned back.

“I’m not gay,” Michael said. Benny’s eyebrows met in the middle in confusion.

“Then what are you?”

“I’m...” Michael started, pausing for a moment as the gears turned in his head. Benny waited patiently. How could a man who so confidently hit on him in public not be gay? “I’m Michael. I don’t do labels. I like what I like.”

“But you like men,” Benny pointed out.

“You’re only the second guy I’ve been with, I usually hook up with women,” Michael said. Benny’s stomach dropped and insecurity he hadn’t felt in awhile built in his stomach. “But I do like you, I like hooking up with you. I just… I’m not gay.”

Instead of dwelling on the topic that made him want to throw up in confusion, he chose to backpedal in favor of a different, lighter conversation.

“I can still teach you how to shave,” Benny said, reaching up to touch his face. He was so… small. He couldn’t be upset about how he chose to label himself when he was still so young. Twenty-three was too young to know anything, right? “I bet you’d like the way it feels.”

Michael breathed in deep and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his mouth.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, “Teach me.”

Benny lifted him off the bed and carried him towards the bathroom which earned him nothing but sweet giggles. It melted most of his worries about Michael’s intentions with him, but he still tried not to get too attached at the way he was holding onto him.

He sat Michael onto the counter and tried to let go, but was pulled in for a kiss that lasted a little longer than he expected. He didn’t complain, completely entranced by the way he kissed and the way he existed. Michael was a closed book who refused to tell him really anything about his personal life. Benny didn’t know where he lived or what he did for fun. He didn’t know who his family was or about his childhood or about his sexual history. He didn’t share. He was just kind and willing to do whatever and it was hard not to be attracted to that.

Eventually, Benny separated from him and pulled out a pack of disposable razors and grabbed a fresh one. Michael was leaned back against the mirror, watching him with a smile and half-lidded eyes. He always looked at him like that, like every move he made was something worth watching. It made it even harder to understand how he didn’t consider himself gay.

“You wanna take off your pants? It’ll make it easier,” Benny suggested. Michael smirked that filthy fucking smirk.

“Sounds like you have an ulterior motive,” he said. Benny smiled and shook his head, hoping his beard covered up the fact that his face was turning red. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I listen well.”

Yeah, the beard definitely didn’t hide the blush well enough.

It took a few minutes, but soon he was showing Michael just how to shave his legs. Then it led to his arms and his chest, basically leaving his entire body so smooth that even he couldn’t help but touch. He was in nothing but his tight black boxer briefs, his tan skin glistening with water. The only hair left on his body was basically covered, only showing with a line coming from those boxers and the wrecked mass of curls on his head. He looked like a fucking god.

“I think I look pretty,” Michael acknowledged. Benny watched him drag his hand over his own chest, watched him look at himself in the mirror with nothing but intrigue. He stared at himself and his hand gradually got lower, his briefs so tight that Benny thought it had to hurt. He swallowed hard and took a grounding breath.

Benny pulled out his favorite lotion and gave it to him.

“Seriously, it’ll change your life,” Benny told him. Michael just tilted his head, pouting slightly as he laid against the mirror again.

“Why can’t you do it for me?” he asked softly.

So he did.

Their time together only lasted a few days, but Michael stayed on Benny’s mind for years.

.4.

“Incoming.”

Riley looked over their shoulder at the warning the bartender, Maria, gave, trying not to roll their eyes at the man coming their way. He walked with an all too confident swagger and leaned against the bar, eyes not even trying to pretend they had another destination aside from Riley.

“Never seen you before,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Maria laughed at him and slid him a drink that he didn’t even have to ask for.

“Don’t fall for his shit, Riley,” she said before walking away. The guy just smiled and Riley decided to entertain him at the very least. There was nothing better to do in this shit town.

“Riley, huh?” he asked. They nodded and took a sip of their drink. “I’m Michael.”

“And you also apparently have a reputation.”

Michael simply grinned, baring his teeth in a way that said he knew exactly what the hell he was doing. “Maybe.”

Riley finished off their drink, wondering just how many people had boosted his confidence for him to think he was charming through a simple smile. Granted, he was charming through a simple smile, but he didn’t need to know that. Riley shifted to face him completely.

“So, you new around here?” he asked. Riley smiled easily, tilting their head to the side to match Michael’s.

“Is that the best pick-up line you have? That’s kinda sad,” they said. Michael’s smile broke out into something wider, rubbing his hand over his chin.

“You got me there,” he said. Riley sat patiently as his eyes looked them up and down as slow as humanly possible. They had to admit it, they liked that. Confidence truly was key. Michael moved just a little closer, not even paying any mind to his drink. “But it still doesn’t answer why I haven’t seen you before. I’m pretty sure I’d notice.”

Riley reached out and grabbed the drink that was meant for him, enjoying the amusement in his eyes when they took a sip. It was fun to make him wait.

“I moved here for work,” they answered eventually.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a mechanical engineer in the army,” they said. Something flashed behind his eyes that they couldn’t quite catch before it was hidden away again.

“You must make a lot of money then,” Michael said. Riley huffed a laugh, shaking their head at him.

“That’s not something I share with strangers.”

“Let’s not be strangers then.”

“Okay,” Riley agreed, “Let’s not.”

Michael licked his lips and moved closer, fully entering Riley’s personal space. Honestly, they didn’t mind. In fact, they liked it. He was cute and he was interested. Maybe he wasn’t the best idea, but no one around could convince them that it was the worst either. What else could one ask for in a one-night stand?

“So, what’s this for?” Michael asked, reaching out to touch the flag patch on the right sleeve of their jacket. He made eye contact to clear that it was okay to touch which was more than Riley could say about most people that hit on them.

“It’s a pride flag,” Riley told him, “It means I’m non-binary.”

Michael nodded slowly, eyes only a little confused. “Which means…”

“It means I don’t really fit into the whole gender binary thing,” they said. He nodded a little more confidently and smiled, his hand still on their arm as he seemed to fit the pieces together in his mind.

“Cool,” he said, his hand sliding a little further down to a different patch, “So then what’s this one?”

“I’m also bisexual,” they told him. Michael’s eyebrows pulled together and he continued to stare and, honestly, it was weird that that was the one that caused his brain to short-circuit. “It means I like all genders, by the way.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, tilting his head up to look at them with an actual serious look on his face. “So, like, how did you know?”

“That I’m non-binary?”

“No, that you’re bisexual,” he said, not moving out of their close proximity despite the fact that the tone had completely changed. Riley just tilted their head in confusion, waiting for him to add more of a question. In the grand scheme of things, their sexuality had seemed to be the most obvious thing. They liked boys, girls, etc. Simple as that. “Like, when did you realize that’s what it was? And not that it was something else.”

“Well, labels are pretty subjective, so it depends. Why?” Riley asked. Michael looked at them in the eyes, still confused and curious all at once.

“Okay, so, say I’ve slept with women and men. Does that make me bisexual?” he wondered. Riley held back a sigh. So much for a one-night stand.

“I don’t know, do you think it makes you bisexual?” they said. Michael just stared blankly at them. “I can’t tell you what you feel. Did you like being with both men and women?”

“Yeah.”

“So, maybe you are,” Riley said, which was the first thing to make Michael take a sobering step away. This time they actually did sigh. “Or maybe you’re pansexual. It’s really up to you on what fits the best to the way you feel.”

“That’s stupid, I want someone to just tell me,” he grumbled. Riley rolled their eyes and laughed. It seemed to bring a little bit of ease back into the conversation. “Say I was bisexual. That means…”

“That you’re not alone in the way you feel and whoever you’re attracted to is completely valid, you just have a word for it now,” Riley finished. Michael smiled at them and, again, moved in closer. Maybe the door for a one-night stand wasn’t closed.

“You’re pretty cool,” he acknowledged.

“I knew that, but thanks,” they said. Michael snorted a laugh.

“No, but seriously. Thanks. I’ll have to look into it a little more,” he said. Riley nodded.

“You should.”

“But, for now,” Michael said, leaning just a little bit closer, “What do you say we get out of here?”

“I want you to know that was the worst build-up I’ve ever seen,” Riley told him. Michael smiled, big and unashamed. “But I’m not in the mood to say no, so let’s go.”

The two of them made it all the way to Riley’s truck before Michael moved in all the way, kissing them finally. They knotted their hands in his shirt and pulled him in closer for a biting kiss. He seemed to fold into that, willingly being pushed into the side of the truck.

“I know I didn’t give much of a build-up, but I can give you one now,” Michael said in a breathy tone between kisses, “You’re really fucking hot.”

Riley grinned and kissed him harder. “I know.”

Michael laughed, “It’s okay. I already know I’m hot.”

“I’m sure you do.”

It took awhile, but they eventually made it back to Riley’s place. They spent the night talking and fucking until the sun rose before agreeing to see each other again. That one-night stand turned into a four-night stand before tapering off into just nodding to each other in public.

Yeah, Michael Guerin absolutely wasn’t a bad idea.

.5.

Alex pulled Michael into a damn near suffocating hug when he saw him again.

It was Alex’s twenty-sixth birthday and he’d just signed his life away for another four years, but that didn’t even matter if he got to be home with Michael again for a few days. He missed him like life itself. How the hell had he gone so long without him?

“I missed you,” he whispered against his neck, pressing a kiss there for extra measure. Michael squeezed him tight right back. They stayed there for a while in that goddamn airport just hugging the life out of each other because they could.

“Let’s go,” Michael murmured, “I wanna go home.”

Alex agreed without hesitation.

The drive home was agonizingly long and quiet, but Alex stayed tucked as close to Michael’s side as he could. He knew if anyone around here saw him, a man in uniform, cuddled up to a man that looked like Michael, they’d both get the dirtiest looks. So he closed his eyes.

“Hey, you know you mean the world to me, right?” Michael asked, so soft that Alex barely heard it. But he did and he smiled, pressing in closer.

“Yeah.”

“So, can I tell you something I figured out while you were gone?” Michael continued, voice still hesitant and soft.

“Yeah, anything,” Alex agreed, reaching for the hand he didn’t have on the steering wheel. He cradled it between both of his encouragingly. He wasn’t quite sure what Michael was preparing to say, but he was open to whatever he had to say. Honestly, he just liked hearing him talk. He missed him so much it hurt sometimes.

“Okay, so you know how we agreed we could hook up with whoever while we’re apart?” Michael said. Alex opened his eyes and tried to ignore the sick feeling he felt because of that. He tried to school his features as best he could and pushed away the urge to think of the worst case scenario.

Instead of asking what he did, Alex said, “Yeah.”

Michael took a deep breath and pulled over into the desert, putting the truck in park and turning to face Alex completely. Alex had no idea what to expect and was beginning to get nervous. He played the last thirty minutes over in his mind. Michael hadn’t kissed him hello, but they never did, but did that mean something bad this time? Were they over? Had he found someone new?

“I don’t know how to preface this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it,” Michael said, letting out another heavy breath, “I’m bisexual.”

Alex felt his entire body deflate and he put his hand over his racing heart with a laugh, trying to calm himself down over that frankly miniscule reveal.

“You scared the shit out of me framing it like that, you know?” Alex said. He realized that was probably the wrong reaction when he noticed that Michael hadn’t moved, staring at him with nervousness written all over his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not mad at me?” he asked softly. Alex felt like he had whiplash from that statement, sitting up straight and turning to face him completely.

“What? Why would I be mad at you, baby?” Alex said, softening his voice as he reached up to caress his cheek. Michael still seemed reluctant to buy it. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“I said I’m bisexual,” he repeated, “I’m not joking.”

“I don’t think you’re joking,” Alex assured him, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. He moved closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just thought it was something serious.”

“I am serious.”

Alex stared at him for a moment, took in his face and the almost fear in his eyes. For a moment he hadn’t even considered that he might be feeling the way Alex did when he came out to someone new. Bisexuality just didn’t seem like as much of a problem, especially when you were talking to someone you were already sleeping with and, for the most part, people wouldn’t think anything of it. He could pass as straight or gay with no problem depending on the occasion.

And that was the problem. He was beginning a never-ending cycle of coming out over and over and over to whoever he spoke to.

“Why would I be mad at you for that?” Alex asked again, shaking his head. Michael shrugged.

“Some people don’t like that.”

“Well fuck them. Thank you so much for telling me,” Alex said, scooting even closer to the point he was almost in his lap, “I’m sorry I laughed. You didn’t laugh when you found out I was gay, I’m sorry. I just really thought you were going to say something bad so it was sort of a relief.”

Michael took a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting his head against his. Alex cradled his head in his hands.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t want you feeling like you can’t tell me things. Seriously, thank you for telling me,” Alex told him, “Have you told anyone else?”

Michael shrugged. “The person who taught me the word, but that’s it. I wanted to tell you first because I figured you’d be a safe person to tell.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t care what you are as long as you’re happy,” Alex told him, weaving his fingers into his hair, “I’m sorry I laughed.”

Instead of talking more about that, Michael moved in for a kiss. Alex accepted happily, pulling him in closer. He missed kissing him more than he could even put words to. He missed him. He dreaded the fact that he had to leave him again. One day, he wouldn’t have to. One day, they could be together.

“You sure you’re okay with it?” Michael asked one more time. Alex smiled.

“I’m more than okay with it,” he told him, pulling him back in for a kiss, “How does it feel, though? Coming out of a closet you were never really in?”

Michael laughed, a genuine sound that was so, so much better than the nervousness of before. Alex kissed him again through it. He never wanted to let go.

“Good,” he said, “It feels good. Really good. A weight off my shoulders, honestly.”

“I love that for you,” Alex told him, giving him one last kiss, “Now let’s get home and celebrate for real.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

It was all fun and games until Alex admitted that he’d re-enlisted. He left a few weeks later, more unsure than ever about his and Michael’s relationship. But, hey, they’d gotten through shit before.

What was one more bump in the road?

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

Michael couldn’t help but admire Alex as he leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. He looked good as fuck, dressed head to toe in black with a leather jacket and tight jeans. His hair was growing out nice and perfect and Michael just adored him. But he had to take his eyes away to focus back on not cutting the area around his ankle.

"Why are you shaving your legs?" Alex asked, stepping in further and sitting down on the chair that was in front of the sink. Michael stole another glance. That was his boyfriend. His for-real-this-time boyfriend. Wasn’t that wild?

“Because we’re going out tonight,” Michael said like it was obvious. Which it was. Michael didn’t really try to keep it a secret anymore about what he did and didn’t like to do. After some trial and error in life, he’d realized that the best way to exist was to do exactly what he liked. So he shaved his legs and he wore a skirt and did his make-up when they went out to a club. He was out and proud and it felt good.

“Mhm, we are,” Alex confirmed, “We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes though and you’ve got a lot of getting ready left to do.”

Michael gave him an innocent smile before just pursing his lips for a kiss. Alex rolled his eyes and dragged the chair closer to the bathtub, leaning to give him a kiss before sitting back down.

“Isobel’s gonna be pissed that we’re late,” he pointed out.

“She’ll get over it,” Michael insisted. Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“How about this, I’ll do your face while you finish up that? It’ll speed it up,” Alex suggested. Michael flashed a wide smile. He liked when Alex did his make-up. It made him feel like a teenager, confused and in love. Honestly, that’s how he felt around Alex most of the time anyway.

With a little bit of telekinetic energy, Michael brought his make-up collection to Alex’s lap. It was a bit of a team effort to do, but it did indeed pass the time. Granted, it also made Michael want to just pull him into the tub with him and kiss him until his lips were numb, but that could wait.

Eventually, they both finished and Michael dried off as carefully as possible. Alex just sat and watched which, honestly, Michael understood. He could watch Alex get dressed and undressed over and over for the rest of his life. Sometimes, he even liked watching himself get dressed and undressed. Alex didn’t seem to have a problem with that either.

Instead of wasting more time thinking about that or the fact that Isobel was already honking her horn outside, he got dressed in a short white skirt and a relatively loose, white button-up that was only about one step away from completely see-through. He tucked it into the skirt before double checking that his hair and face looked alright.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Alex told him, coming up behind him and pressing a kiss to his neck.

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

Michael turned around to kiss him, honestly wanting to just stay home at this point. He liked getting dressed up and he liked looking like a fucking wreck and Alex liked him regardless. It made him feel loved in a way that he couldn’t quite find the words for most of the time.

“Isobel is going to piss off my neighbors if we don’t go out there soon,” Alex murmured.

“Okay, okay,” Michael sighed, “Let’s go.”

It was strange to think that it had taken him so long to find exactly where his place in life was, especially since he’d honestly had right in the beginning. No matter what, Alex was a safe place to call home and explore and love. No judgement, just him. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t seen that immediately. Or maybe he had. But, honestly, those what if’s it didn’t matter anymore.

He was happy .

Simple as that.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #roswell new mexico #my fic

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theassthatquits · 3 years ago

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Chapter Four is now out!

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: TAZ Balance (Stolen Century) Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Summary:

Early on in their journey the seven birds landed in a world where there were seven major magical celebrations that are designed to challenge relationships and make them stronger. The crew find themselves thrust into these events - how will their bonds change? Primarily focused on Barry and Lup. If you're reading my fic "In the Margins," this is the cycle that is referenced!

Two days later, Davenport woke up in a strange bed. He heard a frail voice calling out from another room but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. After quickly surveying his surroundings to make sure that he wasn’t in any danger, he carefully got out of the unfamiliar bed, thankful he had worn a shirt and shorts to bed the night before.

“Hello?” He called out timidly. “My name is Davenport, I think I am supposed to spend the day with you?”

“Hicrue? Is that you?” He turned right down the hallway, following the voice and the coughing that preceded it.

He opened a door to see an older woman lying in bed looking very frail. Pictures of cats lined the walls that mirrored the ones lying on her bed. “Well, you’re not my son. I guess you’re here to spend the day with me?”

“I guess so.” Davenport sneezed. Apparently he was allergic to cats.

—-

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Taako’s flirtatious voice came out, directed at the gorgeous shirtless man emerging from Davenport’s room. “Has the captain finally treated himself?”

“Captain?” The man sounded confused. “I just woke up here, my name is Hicrue. Where the hell am I?”

Lup pushed past Taako to get to Hicrue, “You are on the Starblaster, a plane-travelling spacecraft. Hi, my name is Lup.” She held her hand out for a handshake and batted her eyes, obviously into this guy’s whole deal.

Immediately upon setting his eyes on her, Hicrue’s face lit up. “Pleasure to meet you, Lup. I guess I’m yours for today.” He shook her hand, “Care to show me around?”

“Absolutely! The first order of business -”

“-finding you a shirt.”

Lup whipped around. “Merle! We don’t complain when you walk around shirtless.”

“Actually -” Merle held up his finger as if he was going to argue but she ignored him.

“Anyway, first order of business: a delicious breakfast cooked by me and my less talented twin Taako. Come hang out with us in the kitchen and we can get to know your whole deal.” Lup lead the way out of the common room with Hicrue and Taako dutifully following.

She didn’t notice Barry standing wordlessly in the darkened hallway from his room watching this interaction, a stomach ache coming on without knowing why.

---

“Can I get you anything else, Margaret?” Davenport handed her the cup of tea he made and she shook her head.

“No thank you, dearie. You have done more than enough. Breakfast was delicious.”

“It was really no trouble, I’ve learned how to make french toast from the best.” He would never admit this in front of the twins. “So, how do your days usually go?”

“Well -” she coughed a couple of times before continuing. “Hicrue normally makes me some tea and toast before going out for the day and I sit here in this rocking chair until he returns. We make some light conversation, maybe play a round of cards, eat some supper, and do the whole thing over again.”

“What do you normally do while he’s gone?”

“Sit here and wait for him to come back.”

Davenport frowned. As a certified workaholic who hadn’t taken a vacation in a decade, he couldn’t imagine not being busy. “Well, what does Hicrue normally do when he’s gone?”

“He has a job at the blacksmith’s in town, he’s the apprentice there. And then after work he usually hangs out with his friends.”

Davenport stood up. “Margaret, today we’re going to make this a day to remember.”

“Oh, but dearie you’re supposed to be following Hicrue’s footsteps. You need to go to the blacksmith’s.”

“I’m sure the blacksmith can handle one day without an apprentice. Today, we’re having some fun.”

All Margaret could do was smile sweetly back at him before going into another coughing fit.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, dearie. Well, not exactly. The doctors say it’s terminal.”

Davenport quieted before saying, “Well, I guess we’re going to have to make this an extra special day, then. Now, what is there to do in this town?”

---

“So you’re telling me that you all are from another plane, running away from a giant vore cloud eating up everything in existence that you refer to as the Hunger and you need to locate a giant bright orb of light or else my entire world as I know it will be lost to this entity?”

Lup looked around the table, waiting for someone else to add something. “Yep, that about sums it up.”

“How fucking wicked is that? And you all have been doing this for years?”

“Yup. You could say we’re humanity’s last hope,” Taako leaned back in his chair, attempting to look suave and nonchalant.

Hicrue’s eyes suddenly lit up and he turned to Lup. “Actually, now that you mention it, I think I saw something of that description fall in the forest right outside town the other day!”

Lup suddenly stood up, knocking the table as she went. “Really? We should leave right away.”

Standing up as well, Hicrue locked eyes with her. “Let’s go, I’m ready to leave right now.”

She took his hand in her own, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Remembering she was on a team, Lup looked around the table. “Anyone else want to come?”

Magnus stood up, also shaking the table and nearly knocking Barry’s orange juice into his lap. “I’ll join you guys!”

“All right! Let’s go!” The three of them bounded out of the room, eager to get their supplies and look for the light.

The room was suddenly quiet and the remaining crew just looked at each other around the table. Finally Lucrecia broke the silence. “That was weird, right?”

“Eh,” Merle said. “It’s Lup.”

*Kshhhh* “Merle, come in. Merle.” *Kshhhh*

Merle made no move to grab his stone of farspeech.

*Kshhhh* “Merle, this is your Captain speaking. Over.” *Kshhhh*

Barry turned to him. “Are you going to get that?”

“Get what?” Barry motioned to his stone. “Oh, is that for me?”

“Well, he is saying ‘Merle’ repeatedly, so yeah, I would say so.”

“Well, look at that, I never get mail.” He picked up his stone. *Kshhh* “This is Merle. Over.” *Kshhh*

*Kshhh* “I need you to meet me in town. Your healing expertise is needed. Over.” *Kshhh*

“Sounds like he isn’t really needed if healing is involved,” Taako muttered under his breath. It was unclear if Merle chose to ignore him or wasn’t paying attention at all.

*Kshhh* “All right, I’ll head out now. Over.” *Kshhh*

Merle turned around to see Barry standing at him, incredulous. “Is the Captain okay?”

“I mean, you heard him.”

“He needs healing magic, he might be in trouble!”

Merle shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”

Barry looked around the room, searching for any kind of support. “Is no one else thinking this is kind of concerning?”

Lucrecia shrugged. “I think if he was in trouble, he’d say something. But maybe someone should go with Merle.” No one spoke up.

Finally Barry broke the silence. “All right, I guess since I was the one concerned, I’ll go with Merle.”

“Whatever, Jeans Boy.”

Instinctively, Barry responded with, “It’s Bluejeans.” Then, “Fuck, it’s Hallwinter. I’m Sildar Barry Hallwinter.”

“Sounds like someone’s having an identity crisis.”

“Taako -”

“Are we leaving or what?” Barry looked up and Merle, who had been standing next to him mere moments ago, was now completely ready to go. Barry blinked a few times without saying anything and then followed him out of the door and into town.

---

“If the doctors of this world say it’s terminal, I don’t know what else I can do. I haven’t seen something like this before, it might be unique to this plane.”

“Merle, that’s quite an accusation to throw out there. We don’t have nearly enough information to declare this completely unique to -”

“Barry,” Davenport spoke sternly as if to say ‘stop talking.’ Barry obliged.

“You boys speak so strangely. What is this talk of ‘other worlds’?” Margaret inquired.

“That big metal ship out of town? That’s ours.” Merle answered. Kind of.

“What ship?”

“Margaret, do you go outside at all?” Davenport asked.

“Oh, no, I haven’t been outside in quite some time. Hicrue says he doesn’t have the time to take me out.”

Davenport looked around at the other men in the room and they all came to an unspoken understanding. “Margaret, put on your finest dress. We’re going out tonight!”

Her face lit up. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! Let me clean up this game real fast and we’ll take you to see the ship.”

“And the festival?”

“And the festival!”

Barry helped Davenport clean up the table from where they had been playing a board game when there was a knock at the front door. Barry walked over and opened it and found a young man about the same age as Hicrue. His posture dropped as if disappointed and maybe a little bit of jealousy flared behind his eyes.

“Is Hicrue here?”

“Uh, no, he’s off galavanting with a beautiful young woman.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s face completely sank. “Oh. Well if you see him will you tell him that Nathan is looking for him?”

“Will do.” Barry was about to shut the door when, seemingly out of his control, he asked, “Are you okay?”

This was enough to break Nathan, apparently.

He started sobbing and Barry took a step back, uncomfortable and surprised.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t believe I’m crying in front of a complete stranger. Oh gods.” Nathan wiped his eyes. “I’m a fucking mess, man. I’m in love with my best friend and I can’t get the fucking guts to tell him. And now he’s off with a beautiful young woman? Not going to lie, this does happen quite frequently. He’s always off with a beautiful young someone.”

Barry now knew even less what he should do. After standing there awkwardly a few moments, he stepped forwards and patted Nathan on his back, visibly uncomfortable. “There, there. On the bright side, she won’t be around for longer than a year.”

That didn’t seem to help, he was crying harder now. Barry sighed. “Look, don’t tell anyone this, but I might have a thing for the girl he’s with.”

Nathan stopped and looked up at him. “Really? So we’re in the same situation?”

“I mean, I think it’s just a minor crush, practically non-existent -”

He stared deep into Barry’s eyes and put his hand on his shoulder. “I feel your pain, man. To see someone you’re desperately in love with -”

“Not in love but okay”

“- run off with a gorgeous person doing gods know what, I understand that feeling.”

Barry quit arguing. He figured there was no use in it. “Nathan, do you want to come hang out with us today?”

---

After a full day of showing the ship to Nathan and Margaret, they all got ready for the big feast at the center of town where they would meet their counterparts and share what they had learned for the day. Nathan and Barry walked up together, the latter wearing their nice jeans to make a good impression (And because Lup had complimented them once). Nathan was talking Barry’s ear off about how incredible Hicrue was when the man himself walked up with Lup, both of them animatedly talking with one another. Barry looked up just in time to see Lup throw her head back in laughter and suddenly he wasn’t so hungry anymore.

“Is that her?” Barry realized he had been staring when Nathan spoke up. “The girl with Hicrue, that’s Lup, right?”

His mouth was dry. “Yup.”

“Gods, she’s gorgeous.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t stand a fucking chance.”

“Yup.”

“A little sympathy would be nice.”

Barry shrugged. “Lup is the most incredible person I know. She’s pretty hard to beat.”

“Well, fuck.”

That made Barry laugh. He slapped him on the back. “Sorry, man. She’s just incredible.”

“Wow, you have it bad, don’t you?”

Barry didn’t answer that. Right at that moment, Hicrue looked up and noticed Nathan and Barry and started waving hello enthusiastically. Lup looked confused until he leaned over and said something to her.

“Well, I guess it’s time to head over there.”

“I guess.”

“Gods speed.” They fist bumped in solidarity and walked over to join them.

“Hey! Nathan! Looks like you met another crew member.” Hicrue slapped Nathan on the back as they approached. “Here’s my Starblaster member, Lup. Who’s yours?”

“I’m Barry. We met earlier.” No recognition passed his face.

“Hi Nathan, nice to meet you!” Lup shook his hand enthusiastically and turned to Hicrue. “Is this the guy who -”

“Fell out of the third story window chasing his shadow as a kid? Yes it is.”

Lup giggled. “Just like that marsupial we saw earlier that did that thing.” And then the two of them proceeded to do a dance, clearly part of an inside joke. Both of the boys felt like outsiders next to their friends.

Nathan and Barry just awkwardly watched them go back and forth for a bit, one inside joke after another before Barry interjected. “Did you guys find the light?”

“Oh, sorry Bear. It’s a no go.”

Hicrue snorted. “Bear. How adorable.”

“Yeah, it’s Lup ’s nickname for me.”

“How sweet, Bear.” Hicrue winked at him, as if knowing he was currently getting under Barry’s skin. He then turned back to Lup, who was oblivious to this interaction.

“Nathan, do you want to find a seat?”

He sighed. “Yeah, Barry, I guess I do.”

Hicrue and Lup didn’t notice them walk away and once they were far enough out of earshot, Barry said, “Your dude’s kind of a dick.”

“He can be, yes.”

“Why are you still entertaining the thought of him? You’re a sweet, smart, sensitive guy. You could get anyone you wanted to. Why Hicrue?”

“He’s really kind and funny. We grew up together and I guess I’ve always sort of been in love with him.”

“You deserve better, Nathan.”

“I don’t want better, Barry.”

There was nothing else to say to that. They sat down, not enjoying themselves for the rest of the night, both of them stealing glances to their crushes across the party.

#taz balance #the stolen century #barry bluejeans #lup #blupjeans #lup taaco

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